Transcript for the Piece Audio version of Bludgeon

Of all the things I knows I need
I knows I need not that.
That pithy flagrant unkular gist,
that subtle tit & tat.
A repartee so sordidly clear,
but for the one its holds on fast to,
a lugubrious lust of tactical verse,
an addiction deep as a tide pool.
Oh barb me , do , you big fat boob
with your, overrated wit,
I'll maybe pretend, my blind oafish friend,
I was unaware... of your gist.
While your tone... that particular shade,
while covering me with vermilion,
I'll dodge those cranial gymnastics done
for my seemingly detested oblivion.
Exhumed from so deep, a dank lobule grave,
the ghosts of a wit long rotted,
useless moaning malaise of dubious intent,
with a tongue that is self besotted.
That piety exhales a damp breath of rot,
vocally rotundric protuberances dancing,
rolling and waddling and crawling around
seeking moments..... interjections, while prancing.
Blatheringly begot, the spawn of a sot
cleverer and cleverer you bludgeon,
my cudgel thought weakened,
my syllables slain, my mien a mask of mutton.
Cut to the quick and, ooh how it doth jab
helping your sense of purpose,
your lofty self, so scrupulously maintained
is elevated lauded and tufted.
You cajoling jester of pith And piss,
your pathetic arrows loosened,
your contractual tryst, twixt blindness and spit
is never-the-less unwoven..
The yoke of the joke rests firmly attached,
to a face that is smug with glee,
but the sticks and the stones
sought to bludgeon my bones
has only antied my cudgel?s fee.