the last survivor of a boiled crown
another casualty with the casual frown
the janitor vandals they bark in your face
juveniles with the piles and paste
with the crutches of frogs
don't be confused when the fuse is up
you can run and be killed
of the muscles that build
the scalps of zero hear the call
rubbing in a blind man's running hall
with the canker sores and the robot pill
throwing imbeciles on the window sills
with the crutches of frogs