The Darkest Spectrum of the Written Word

Monoflourocarbons
The sould of a dead christmas tree speaks to me
Monoflourocarbons
A hazy glimpse of something or other.
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With every breath and with every step and with every glance and with every thought
And with every girl scout selling cookies at my door
I struggle to find my remote control

Oh how I long for the simple pleasures in life
Yet daffodils make me sneeze.
Monoflourocarbons

I am not a raccoon.
Yodel yon happy woodsman.
Ferns, ferns, ferns, ferns, ferns, ferns, ferns, Nebraska, ferns, ferns, and ferns
I too am never one for upon thee also
So continues nothing