I Am Nose
The flies they crawl upon it
in the blazzing summer times,
and the thing gets hard like granite in the sun.
It nearly turns to stone.
Some air passes in and out of passages
beneath it`s dome.
And people like to make a fist
and send it from it`s home.
The thing is still a part of Jesus.
They should learn to leave it well alone.
A woman puts some powder on her`s
to keep the glare down
from her tequila sunrise
to keep the thing from announcing
that She is still at home.
And a young man still sticks his
where it just nevere does belong.
And an old man learns to follow his own,
and leave every othere one alone.
I am sure ewe guessed at my meaning.
I am Nose.
