I fear you calling me back home
I hear you brawling now at home
I hear you calling from the foam
I feel blue crawling drunk at home
I hear you polished all the chrome
Oh,dear,he’s been struck by googled stones.
King Lear might fall for our new home.
I hear you call Macbeth in’t gloam.
My gear’s not suited to their home.
I leered at all the men in Rome
I sneered at all his orphaned gnomes
A spear would feel unlike my phone