Maple Syrup

OH THE HORROR OF A COLD BLUSTERY NIGHT WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES FOURTY TWO AND THE DOGS OUTSIDE BEGIN TO BRAY. THE COLD BED SHIVERS AND THE OWNER FORGETS WHAT HE HAD FOR BREAKFAST, AS THE AUTUMN WIND BLOWS THE SHUTTERS

CLOSED.

throw away the jello, throw away the pain, throw away the memories of any sort of shame.

throw away the children, throw away the veins, throw away the connection that once could make you plain.