2/30 - Limber
2/30
In a time before coffee. In a land before space. Deep within the lungs of God I awaken. There is no complaints department because there are no complaints. Duct tape holds together the model airplane of my soul. My hard drive is made of meat. My bug eyes bug out while I drive my dune buggy. I’m a violinist on a vacation. I’m a six-string-puppet guitar and there’s blue fire in my heart.
You put a key in to unlock something and you turn a key to wind something up and you pull a key out to make it explode. Cats run wild on this farm. Your teeth float to the top like your mouth is made of cream. You need to be limber to be good at limbo
tags
In a time before coffee. In a land before space. Deep within the lungs of God I awaken. There is no complaints department because there are no complaints. Duct tape holds together the model airplane of my soul. My hard drive is made of meat. My bug eyes bug out while I drive my dune buggy. I’m a violinist on a vacation. I’m a six-string-puppet guitar and there’s blue fire in my heart.
You put a key in to unlock something and you turn a key to wind something up and you pull a key out to make it explode. Cats run wild on this farm. Your teeth float to the top like your mouth is made of cream. You need to be limber to be good at limbo
tags