I exaggerate my deeds.
So simple to perform.
I bare my chest to needs.
I am a god unborn.
Fantastic fetes of old.
No more. Not needed. Fusion.
Comfort can be sold.
No pain the only reason.
What about the loss of love?
Stimulate my joints.
I will bend and I will shove.
I am the machine of points.
Press here pull there my tongue sticks out.
Wherever I go will be a movie.
Articulating sand and snow.
The trudging will be groovy.
But who might get a handle on things
and twist it for the hell of it?
We must protect us from what brings
an outside source: the hiatus!