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The Fly, Hand and Poo

The fly landing on my hand After jovial excrement dancing Doesn't know the difference Between me and shit;
We're all food to the fly We're all food to the fly No difference between me And shit;
The fly salutes me and then The fly salutes the shit By rubbing it's little front legs Grateful for another tasty lick;
All food for the glorious golden Metal colored and painted body Of the noble fly who vomits And pukes on me and the poo;
Made of food the shit and I Made of food for the fly Made of food we all are we Dung, urine and all our fleshy goodness;
Go away fly you've touched me And you've touched shit Shit is a better place to rest and dine Not my hands, face, arms or legs;
The fly goes away as I attempted A self gratifying picture of us both I figure we are now friends I and my insect muse must document This occasion.

Alexander Nuttall
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