reading the runes

As a boy, my pants were short
my underpants my mother bought.
As a man, my pants are long
and in my pants there hangs a schlong
beneath which there doth hang two balls
bristling with spiky scrawls
like those upon a railcar door
just like the pants I never wore
or the runes I never read
the tunes I hum now that I'm dead.

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