Some say April is the cruelest, and though I can be quite morose.
The stiff who penned it on a fool's list of those who are chronically verbose
When your head starts craning back
And your breath comes short and fast
The music of the spheres start to bounce and sing
That's when you know you're swinging
When your eyes roll back into your head
And the sap of the trees on your fingers have bled
whomever
waltz
verbose
trees
there
stiff
starts
spheres
shaking
though
schmaltz
symptoms
scheming
please
quite
crouch
breath
chronically
charms
bullet
swooning
prowl
april
swinging
breeze
cruelest
bounce
feeling
unconsciously
those
fingers
start
hands
dreaming
craning
feels
short
growl
green
morose
these
music
comes
penned
pimpin
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