It was a random question
You were sending a notion
While inside that station
There's a bit of commotion . . .
Never thought it could happen
No longer in a play-pen
All the while every thing's zen
Normal as counting to ten . . .
We all knew that it's a must
In earning each other's trust
Showing the ill-fated rust
Upon the product of bust . . .
The excuse was the control
What if you swayed to the roll
Supposed the bouncing of ball
It may have taken its toll . . .
Effects were devastating
He was left contemplating
An event to be watching
Well the odds are quite tempting!
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