The Plan

The plan, no will Just leave it to the whims of your unborn little ones For tonight write it for a joke An unbroken code, it's no one's snow in the middle of the road Write none and leave it to the whims of your unborn little ones Write a word for the fear of bees and nothing else In the crease of a lonely book on the shelf And leave it in reference only for it to be found By your anonymous homie creased writing pen pal Or fear none And leave it to the whims of your unborn little ones All the small tools For an heirloom pocket watch And the watch kept warm and working In a raw skank's crotch