Bad Poetry

The Sun, the Grass

The sun rose ooh the sun rose.  The sun set ooh the sun set.  

The grass how soft the grass is when the sun is up.

Playing tag on the grass the soft grass, ooh.

Now I’m in class holding brass and drinking out of a water glass.  

Now I’m looking at the sun eating a hot dog bun holding a gun, ooh the grass.  

Now it’s the sun ooh how fun the sun is.  I want to run, no not shun.

The grass blows in the wind like my bros that froze and pokes his nose.

It smells so good just like Robin Hood.  Smell, ooh the smell.

The sun rose ooh the sun rose.  Then set.