Spraycan

He twiddles his thumbs, And bangs on his drums, The song will drive him crazy! But never before, Through minds' galore, Have the words been quite so hazy. A jump through a wall, His hairs standing tall, Would he be quite the better. But preform all he will, The space it won't fill, Will kill him off as a debtor. So tastes he will sing, The echoes they ring, But nothing will ever fix you. He tries to scream out, His head in a shout, Knowing your end will be a renew.