AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[Drauka]

The Open Season
Ice and snow on the window,
Across the counter strewn about,
Are jars each which throw,
Glorious smells for my snout.

Opened jars of peanut butter,
Mixed with honey, mixed with jam,
Mixed with meat, don’t call me a nutter,
I have weird tastes, it’s how I am.

Frige is open, fruit on the floor,
Ice box open, oh what’s in store?
Fruit and ice cream I WANT MORE
Until my mom closes the door.

Though it was the open season,
I find my self, now a’cleanin’.