DisJointed Verses

Anish: The sword is hanging really low

And beaded is your sweaty brow...

A wary eye to the hanging blade...

Now forgetting... Were you maso or sade?!

But just before you get the point (!)

Let us roll that final joint.

Nikita: I painted my nails a velvet red

Yes my nails are painted, like I said.

The blade to pierce now lays raw,

The one I used to sharpen my claws. 

Then my shaky fingers I appoint,

I'm set to roll that final joint.

Anish: Assuming a raucous, wheezing form,

A BT sings its entrance song.

My throat is dry, your death is nigh,

Do me once before you fly.

And give me that one term you coined,

Before we share our one last joint!

Nikita and Anish: Trick or treat, surprise me please!

A little patience, a little tease...

Hand me now that herb you rolled,

for which my soul was what I sold.

Slide it between my cherry lips;

drink some secrets in tiny sips.

And believe me, I don't disappoint,

Roll it, I say! Just roll that joint.