Critique Oblique

Critic of the black and white It`s your first night. The Passion Play gets in the way, Spoils your insight. Tell me how the baby`s made, How the lady`s laid, Why the old dogs howl with sadness. The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on the memory of last summer`s trip to Europe Did you buy a passport from the queen? And your little sister`s immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulder of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision. The examining body examined her body.