12-04-2012, 06:53 PM
Curled up tight, dried out of sight.
Spun too thin, slipped round the rim.
These are the socks for you to find,
these are the socks it leaves behind,
wash basket monster, none can see
the lost socks are coming they're after me.
A material mass, a lonely life form
some live in tatters some live in torn
They hide in draws, pretend to be found
then turn into gloves when word gets around
some do your ankles, some do your knee
some do the dusting, some come as three
so when you chose, to screw socks in a ball
and throw them in baskets, bounced of the wall,
a material monster with toe holes for eyes,
is waiting for one, to say his goodbye's.
Spun too thin, slipped round the rim.
These are the socks for you to find,
these are the socks it leaves behind,
wash basket monster, none can see
the lost socks are coming they're after me.
A material mass, a lonely life form
some live in tatters some live in torn
They hide in draws, pretend to be found
then turn into gloves when word gets around
some do your ankles, some do your knee
some do the dusting, some come as three
so when you chose, to screw socks in a ball
and throw them in baskets, bounced of the wall,
a material monster with toe holes for eyes,
is waiting for one, to say his goodbye's.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out