Everything had to be as close to goddamn perfection as humanly possible
Just how this one particular procedure needed to be
Hook, line and sink or swim
Two-thousand sit-ups never quite enough, but for it he was prepared to work all of the more
His favourite suit fitting his shoulders oh so perfectly
People still, to this very day, keep asking him does it really feel as snug as a gun
Even more so, perhaps!?
Retracing his most torn asunder tracks, longing to remember yet never so much as ever try and take any of it back
Fate could have it
All if it, goddamnit!!
The perfect storm hardly ever warmed the cockles though

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