The Snakelocks Writhes and it sticks to your finger,
Lurking in the same pool year after year, tide after tide.
And the drifter sits in his mineral kingdom,
Making common cause with limpets and winkles,
Anemones and clingfish.
Practicing the Keltek tongue, ancient Brythonek wordflow.
But the excercise-girl can touch her toes - there goes my mind again.
There goes my mind again...
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