Such regular expressions fill the air
The air in all its purity implied
It tells us we should regulate our care
Before it knows for sure we’ve never tried
As green as blessed bud, as blue as smoke
The dreams become the nightmares we had sought
Like rhymes that rise In couplets as we choke
Like bits of stolen candy no one bought
It doesn’t matter now, It’s just a word
The word is god in some poetic verse
The word of god when read becomes absurd
And frequently it goes from bad to worse
Now write this down before we both forget
It’s just a game; it doesn’t match and set.