Before I had my rags removed,
I molded a man after my own
Image, as I moved
Through the tiny stage of town.
His name was Buckley the Baker.
The sweets he made melted hearts of stone;
They turned wars in the streets into wars for the Maker,
And churned minds away from the phone.
He had a mushy beard, that
made him resemble Santa Clause.
But I was mad I at him about what I heard
during one dark pause.
looking like an upside down clown
After the baker asked with his nose turned up, head shaking
“Who is that boy interested in baking?”