By: deVinePoet
Tribal drums sound the dawn
Of a sacrificial rite
They
gather round the fire
This late August night
What will they give the
Gods
To appease the big brother
Rob would sacrifice nothing
Well
perhaps his only mother
And there it is the prized hat
We’ve all come
to cherish
Will Erika toss the pinkness
To suffer a fiery
perish?
Silence reigns at this solemn time
We hold hands to chant a
tune
Good by Rob's red tank top
Good bye black net of June
Good bye
white Ali shorts
Good bye black pants of Jack
Good bye Jee’s orange
shorts
There’s now no turning back
The only thing we cheer about
Is
the pink hat we all hate
So throw it in, burn it now
Before it gets too
late!
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