I make the devil cry when I let these couplets fly

Virgil from Comedy Divine, poet sovereign

All them autumn leaves turning auburn was the sign

I am proof that what is lost is regained with time

My vision went from dark to premonition

My pencil spent the stars to get a rhythm

My stencils, Brent Bronze was a symptom

My spindle spins bars into denim

I'm fly when feelings are in the stitches

My kennel, his dogs'll go and get 'em

I want my flowers when i'm finished

Cause now all i got is this compass rose

I been mapping out every act of my play

This the smoking gun that Chekov gave

She told me it could go either way

Lady luck giving mixed signals till the very end

So til then

"I'm Homer with the pen."

I used to stare at the sun asking why it chased away the night

And the moon why the sun made it take flight

They answered a young bronze by saying distance made they life right

Thats a lesson you learn

Apollonian, Dionysian, order and chaos are a balance we must observe

I serve an allegorical purpose

More than what occurs on the surface

Sometimes I wonder what's the point of the poet competing in the circus

'Til I realize that clowns attract crowds that I can turn into currents

Starting My own wave just to go surfing

I'ma make a sign of the times but written in cursive

They say if you put it in the book you hid it from every person

So I'm, putting my wisdom in verses

But it seems Jesus already tried it, you **** curved it

Listen

We just seize this, peep this heathen teething, piecing decent reasons, please just lend some credence then the freedom he done resist come home unknown creatures leave us needing, pleading, the shadows had those cave dwellers yellow-bellied, meanwhile, i made flows hella varied and the forms you never understood left you starving on the way to cemetery

Explain that

I'm Homer with the pen

Going in again, going in again, going in again...