inhibitions float away like the wind
with the creases on my hand i look and realize that things have finally folded. the cards may have bet five years ago, but david bowie once sang a song with the same title so i have to come to the realization that things are through. i love bowie, and so do millions, but the bomb blond blockbuster is only a summer thang, and summer just started so we must prepare for the end.
destroy it to preserve it, i believe the vikinkgs once said, but as far as i know, i don't have an ounce of norse blood in me, so i say hold on and strangle it until it is dead. preservation was created for peaches and other yummy sweets, but the stagnant may heat has made me think otherwise. preserve the precious and relenquish the relentless, the tired young eyes only see the current and eventless. the drunken moments just as welll be forgotten, because you too my friend will find time is decaffeinated.
infusing only the weak, the tired, and the old. we live off our 8 o' clock roast and wade tirelessly in the waves of the moment. low tide may roll in, or the high tide may take our sandcastles, but no matter what, they will remember the old sing songs past of young love, when hungry spirits embraced the glass of tomorrow, the mirrors in which we will gaze upon the future to find our own errors.
destroy it to preserve it, i believe the vikinkgs once said, but as far as i know, i don't have an ounce of norse blood in me, so i say hold on and strangle it until it is dead. preservation was created for peaches and other yummy sweets, but the stagnant may heat has made me think otherwise. preserve the precious and relenquish the relentless, the tired young eyes only see the current and eventless. the drunken moments just as welll be forgotten, because you too my friend will find time is decaffeinated.
infusing only the weak, the tired, and the old. we live off our 8 o' clock roast and wade tirelessly in the waves of the moment. low tide may roll in, or the high tide may take our sandcastles, but no matter what, they will remember the old sing songs past of young love, when hungry spirits embraced the glass of tomorrow, the mirrors in which we will gaze upon the future to find our own errors.