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Ha…   Hanging hammer of a word,

That orders in its spree,

Neither forward, nor backward

Little awkward is the plea.

I choose to be my way,

Have skins by my side,

Huh! The word pumps away

The meaning it can’t hide.

Let the hearse fly or crawl,

Rehearsing many times,

But we’re off its wall

Not listen to its rhymes.

ha!

Our word in silence,

Has its own order too,

Has rules to sing of sense,
Is enorm to listen to!