Engulfed in waves of pestilence
That’s raining down upon me
Contagion and concupiscence
In lust that’s all around me
If everything I knew was ever
Turned into a play;
I’d leave the throttle open wide
And move to Santa Fe
And there, I’ll build a picket fence
Of biological defense
Whatever there might be expense
To live in my wan
Pallescense
I’ll have to Google “Pallescense” but isn’t Santa Fe land-locked? Wouldn’t that be even more awful?
I wasn’t sure – I thought maybe the plague would hate the hot weather and move off – but, being pallescent, the sun might do me in.
It does seem plague-y, sometimes.
Plagal? Plague-oid? Plaguetastic?
Plagal. LOL, that works. Or in today’s parlance, plague-assed. Nah,