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I'm a tricky trickster
Some might say a trashy hipster.
I'll trick the fool and stick it to the man
And trickeries, tricky though they may be, tend to transpire.
"To be, or not to be," young Hamlet might ask,
But if to truly be or not is just a question of breathing,
We've got it all wrong.
Kung-fu treachery and time traveling goats combine to transform
Tribulations into tri-tip steak sandwiches,
To be safe, to be fed, to be warm, and to be sound in bed;
To be, to B.E., to blame trench-coated, trained troubadours for Our untimely technical troubles.
To question tenacious tenants in the neighbor's townhouse is unteathered to the goal of a timely tea time,
Yet time and again we trouble them with our tinny, tiny troubles
To try to understand the tiresome existence
Until it becomes transcendental of time and of tact,
A simple, unsophisticated, study of some small songbird's siblings' strife.