Focus: This Picture (V)

Bingo loves a bone
So the watchdog fed
Unleashed but tied down
It struggled with no rope
We know what you’ve consumed
When you continually belch trash
The refuse will not refuse you
The garbage keeps on heaping
Soon you’re the heap
Until your head can no longer keep
Comatose, the brain is toast
Yesterday, today, tomorrow is stale
No new diet, same old news
And when the watchdog retires,
You’re left to convulse.


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