Drip, Drip, Drip,
The percipitation oozes out,
Dangling from a noose on every pore,
It falls, staining the white sheet around,
Sting and reopening every sore,
Nauseous and rancid it seems to be,
But it's just the effects from hiding behind the belly
Folded bit by bit upon itself,
The consequence of glutony apparent,
Though it's to them we run to in fear,
Staring at the folds forever kept,
Obviously shame must wash over me,
But it's just the effects from hiding behind the belly,
He's out leader of all things good,
Trust him or no one they command,
Though it's muffled, their mouths in cellulite,
Seemingly, grossly content where they land,
The flames lick their heels but they never flee,
But it's just the effects from hiding behind the belly.
