Your horse-like face is worn with pride,
Your empty- head is occupied
With thoughts which other people wouldn’t think.
It’s time to cry, it’s time to laugh,
It’s time to climb the rhyme giraffe,
Which lives inside a stained-glass glass stained pink.
Your hindsight sends the signal out:
Don’t mess with me or else I’ll pout,
Or maybe not, it really doth depend.
And as you reach the final mark,
Your empty head lights up the dark,
Reveals the message “Welcome to The End.”