Pumpkin piss is what I miss.
Almost as life-like as a cinnamon kitten kiss,
But very rare as I'm barely aware I'm even there.
Pumpkin piss is only around…
Until the leaves have hit the ground.
I may fly for hours to feel far away
And while I'm gone I can't really stay.
Never enough reasons...
For pumpkin pissing season.
Until next time, I will cherish the creepy fun,
And I may savor the early setting sun.
If will allows me one sweet souvenir,
We'll all be pumpkin pissing next year.
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