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THE SHACK WHERE ZAZE LIVES

This is the door, that goes in the shack where zaze lives.
This is the hole, covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the rug, that lays on the floor,
beyond the door, with the hole,
covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the stove,
that warmes the rug, that lays on the floor, beyond the door,
with the hole, covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the desk, she likes to play at,
after she trips over the rug, warmed by the the stove,
that lays on the floor, beyond the door,
with the hole, covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the little hole, covered by duct tape,
beneath the desk, she likes to play at, after she trips over the rug,
warmed by the the stove, that lays on the floor, beyond the door,
with the hole, covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the kitchen, where she cooks the food,
that feeds the rug, by the desk, she likes to play at,
with the little hole, beneath it, warmed by the the stove,
that lays on the floor, beyond the door, with the hole,
covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

These are the pans, on the wall,
in the kitchen, to cook the food, that feeds the rug,
by the desk, she likes to play at, with the little hole, beneath it,
warmed by the the stove, that lays on the floor, beyond the door,
with the hole, covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the big hole, covered by duct tape,
she sees every day, above the pans, on the wall, in the kitchen,
that feeds the rug, by the desk, she likes to play at,
with the little hole, beneath it, warmed by the the stove,
that lays on the floor, beyond the door, with the hole,
covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the window, she daydreams at,
when she cooks the food, with the pans, below the big hole,
covered by duct tape, in the kitchen, that feeds the rug,
by the desk, she likes to play at, with the little hole, beneath it,
warmed by the the stove, that lays on the floor, beyond the door,
with the hole, covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

This is the duct tape, on the floor,
she passes daily, on her way, to the kitchen, by the pans,
below the big hole, covered by duct tape, by the window,
where she daydreams, when she cooks the food, that feeds the rug,
by the desk, she likes to play at, with the little hole, beneath it,
warmed by the the stove, that lays on the floor, beyond the door,
with the hole, covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

These are the stairs, that go up there,
where she checks another hole, covered by duct tape, before she rest,
so she can pass by the duct tape, on the floor, on her way to get the pans,
below the big hole, covered by duct tape, in the kitchen, by the window,
where she daydreams, when she cooks the food that feeds the rug,
by the desk, she likes to play at, with the little hole, beneath it,
warmed by the the stove, that lays on the floor,
beyond the door, with the hole,
covered by duct tape, made by the cat, that is no more,
killed by the dog, who stays at the shack where zaze lives.

THE END

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