Slowly a sinister smile creeps into the face of the stirring waters,
as the moon reflects off the cascades of the water's deep,
a narcissistic city licks his chapped lips and hollers,
vanity shrouds his simplistic mind.
And a golden turd is born
down in the hollow of a city's bowels.
Buried 'neath the layers of the intestinal tract.
Lodged between the abdomen and arse.
As the colen burns and itches, and potrudes way out, and, like a pipe organ, plays a familiar tune, albeit, an all too familiar tune.
A golden turd falls down ...