He came from nowhere, Incan did
From the murky depths of the sea.
A primitive brain with a primordial yearning
To eat all the poems he could see.
While slinking around in the foam of the waves
A storm blew him into this port
And when he saw the poems floating around
He treated poem-eating as sport.
Because the lonely poems taste bitter
And the love-y ones so sweet
But his favorites were the suicides
That tasted like red meat.
And smacking his lips after swallowing
He admits, "It wasn't quite so bad.
But now it's gone and thankfully so;
All the best --- Brad."
can you tell! That's Incan perfectly--totally loved it.
