Slowclash

Simple Tempermental Radically bolting for the door Hitting the floor Wanting more Disengage Rearrange

Affronted laughter freezes time Statue tableaus embody crime Echoes taunt in rhyme

Tired Fired Rehired Fired Tired

Swirl Spit Shoot Wear a suit Polish a boot

Sifting in a pan Call me Stan I’m the man Do anything, I can I’m the man Named Stan Sifting in a pan

Stan wanted gold His soul he sold As he grew old He became too bold Coughed up mold His body now cold Buried under gold

Cellphone, What do you hold? Do your elements contain a story? In all your glory, You leave civilization cold And empty to the bone. Cellphone.

Minerals and deposits Look at the cause it’s Greed verses empty wallets I’d rather write sonnets Than wear fancy bonnets

Look at me typing on my computer I’m a master polluter