Now the Beatniks
Had colorful fuzz
Had a pain buzz
Sometimes the Parables would watch them play
With a stare they would stick their snouts in the air
With a huff and a puff their yaks of malignity
"They think their great, making noise with their tilly-vally!"The colors were very bright. To some they were such a sight
You would think they wouldn't mind showing off their colors
But the Beatniks thought of themselves like everyone else.
All up and down Metropolitain
Beatniks big and small
Road boards up and down the mall
Xeroxs were known to try to play like the Beatniks
But to them it wasn't the same,
Until one day a strange man rode down Metropolitan
He rode some grotesque of a machine The parables were some creature
The way that they were agelast
nope they never even pulled a smile or a crack
"I am ! For I can help you Xerox's. I can make you who you want to be!"
The Xerox peered with sights of wonder and avoy.
For they wanted to know how was it the machin? Sorcery?
They thought Mr. Travesty was a little doolally.
"Now don't look at me in such a way it's not like I tell capilotade!"
Mr. Travesty was a perhendinancer looking for a honeyfuggle
He was a thwarted man who cause scevity
A valpone yes, that is he
"Why not try? Any volunteers?"
Some thought this was wrong
No one understood this!
Beatniks shouted words like
"Oh the fakery!"
While the parables mumbled and grumbled things
"My i am filled with skepticism."
Suddenly the murmures and yells quieted
When one Xerox whispered
"I'll try" and he jiggled
IN avoy they watched
As the machine
ROARED and POUNCED
And flooded the air with fog
The little Xerox Came out
Filled with color
BUt no one noticed his were
They they all clapped and cheared
For Mr. Travisties machine had worked
And every Xerox Wanted to try
So soon no one could tell the difference
Beween Xerox and Beatnik
They played and laughed
UNtil One Xeox sat alone
A Beatnik with swirled gold and other colors
Saw this site
"Whats the matter? Isnt this what you wanted?"
"Oh yes, but now i feel as if i am pulling a fakery
Is there anyway to be who i was before?"
He cried sadly
"Well of course there is! JUst be you!"
And the litle Xerox smiled
He jumped up and became himself
His colors of Fakery faded
Along with the other Xeroxs
The colors died
They didnt notice with their
And the Beatniks
Were the only ones colored
But the Beatniks and Xeroxs played
Noticing they were all different
In every way