Meditations on Words - Day 7

Sire my boy, Liam, Peter
I shall mail you the rise
Beget me that boy, named Liam
Peter, or Pyotr, or your Pete
And a rise will be mailed, get it?

Send me my son, Liam, Pete
Pete, send me my son, Liam
Liam, Pete, send me my son
Son, Liam, Pete, send me my
My son, Liam, Pete, send me
Me my son, Liam, Pete, send

Rate the bulge on his mother's womb
Tear the bulge on his mother's womb
Tare, the bulge, his mother's womb!
Tera, the bulge, your very womb!
Tera rates the tearing of her torn tears

On this day is born Liam
Not in the city of David
Liam wrought to kippered ground
Not of Jeru, bounced into Balloon
Tell Pete his my son works
Light emanates from his eyes

I guzzle the light that I might
Someday when the time is right
Wither and die, my dust makes flight
In the air, spread thin, out of sight
And yet, sure as the starry night
Pete, Liam, there's still the blight!