9 acessos
Driving on a busy street,
No one knows nor will see
What's become a tragedy,
The aftermath revealed to me
It's a substance split from a jug,
On route 42's busy hub
It's red in color with no suds,
Almost like a jello brand rug
It's left to lie on the road,
It should be dumped in a commode
And as I drive my car by,
I just ask my self oh why
And still the questions remain,
How did this plastic jug get slain
If it were alive would it feel pain,
A mystery no one can explain
On that Sunday afternoon,
As I drove home all too soon
Did others see what did loom
the perpetrator is the goon