Three alarmingly disarming somebody’s
All of them smiling fair comfortably within their San Diego forever-chairs
Half-heartedly prepared to snare everything and anything, set the bar far higher
On a whim, trained to win outright
Sprightly sonsasbitches the whole lotta them
Which one do we choose though, so as not to lose our every single sense, albeit momentarily
Perfectly wired to this thousand-mile moon of ours
Getting to watch whilst the rest of them – outright pretenders – flail unimaginatively, their once-upon-a-time serene faces fading away to green in complete comparison
None too jovial monsters all of their own
Pardon us but we are looking to set fire to this particular moon which lies right within sight
Look, it’s smiling!!

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