I can tell by your tone
There’ll be no picket fence.
You try for casual discourses,
But I just hear King’s Horses
Assembling.
Eggshell amour,
My only defense
Against all your King’s Men.
I saw that wall,
From which no one could fall,
There’s yolk on your hand,
For somebody planned
The whole thing you see.
Humpty was pushed.
And now you plan to push me.