If I am to succeed in giving...

I am to look as if I'm a cheetah,

And meet the speed of other ostriches,

Whom can't fly.

If I am to succeed in loving,

Then my peacock feathers...

Must drive to the eye.

And I must waltz to the heart,

With a suit of gold.

If I am to create life...

Then my shadow's must be made of coffee creamer...

Sweet to the tongue;

Just enough to abuse it's sugar,

And swallow it whenever its time.

If I am to succeed in getting...

Then I must become boneless.

Then I could bend my way towards mannequins,

That caresses the lion's skin...

Where the heart laid,

It was dead from birth...

Because...

(We never use it.)

(Beat)

Beat...

Ever.