wilt the stilt

he layers the stat sheets of swetty old time

the old musty gym rats within his soul

dribble and pass like the winds came at last

to dream water of the bus all out of control

butane wilt the stilt gained the firey wheel

rewrote the captains notes into a meal dished out

sat down to eat it with the reaction of earth doubt

he must have came from another universe rehearsed

working the years jumping dry into wheat fields

bone buttered bread like staples in your head

dunking not drunken yet stoned in a drown

he raced like an ace bet phoned in from town

straight to a 100 point hemispherical zones

to the heavens he goes and knows where he's from

untie all the stigmas jerking stereotype bums

wilt the stilt was a gift without guilty crumbs