Like a manic, like a clown
I was running for life all through town.
What the chaser did not know,
slithering throat here now is my fun.
Now he’s leaping, not worth keeping,
shame he messed ’round with someone like me.
And he’s screaming, he is crying
did he actually think I was lying?
Now he’s dead, no more dread,
let’s go running through town all again.
Little Pocket Journal 