The one where you're mad
And have the face of a fish
Not an exotic or prehistoric fish
But a trout or a bass
A normal fish face
So I respond by taking a bait-stance
The stance I take when I fear your madness
And I become a salmon egg
At the end of a treble hook
And we come together in violence
Your lip, gill, or throat is now pierced
And though you may taste me
You will die before I can become a part of you
And the god that has orchestrated this
Drinks Hamm's and thinks his son might be gay
Fishing for rainbow trout with your son? Brown trout might be the ticket.
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