I once knew this girl who was constructed from dynamite, the dominance in her properties was ampleness which caused a hip explosion
She was the bomb invoking destructive ideas, with which my mind could not contend.
Terrorism could never be, so well connected as was she.
Her detonator was in her hand, but the charge you could plainly see
Put together like a suicide vest, purposed for a suicide campaign, upsetting the mind of every man that was in her blast radius
I now go to sleep, to dream of these hip lead pyrotechnics