They were all covered in it
thick and clingy,
cloying wax
white cream laced and tilled
streak lone racer streak
tipped with long slick rails
past brown wrapped paper trees
in fire red coats of honor
made in some overseas sweatshop
I believe in ruin and the karma of being a follower
a dedicated party line to the cool and his gang
Watch as they make their subtle blitzkrieg on the mountain
all is well with fur wrapped excess
To catch one more powdered wave
is the Heiress''s desire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem