Ch
Look into my eyes. What do they say? Probably nothing. Eyes don't have lips. If they did, the redness in the wine would float about our sockets. They'd become corrupt instead of being pure and clarifying like that of newborn babe's. They'd slander and lie. They'd blaspheme and disparage, but they'd speak volumes that our mouths could not hope to flout. For that which retains all visual perception must be a wise and trusted source on many things. We trust what our eyes see, dow we not? Seeing is believing, unless the eyes fall victim of deceiving. My eyes say give them drink, so that they may see the world in a haze and blur. My eyes say give them thought, so they might argue it. And my eyes say give them rest, for they grow tired of this disillusioned world.
Now, look kids, this isn't meant to challenge your mental cognitive skills or anything. It really doesn't mean a whole lot. It's like public art. It's there to look pretty and be pretentious. Think on that!
Oh yeah, camping on Fri-Sat will be one hell of a drunken hay-ride, if you catch my drift. And by that I mean we'll get drunk by the campfire, maybe say some silly things, and go home with "mysterious illnesses".
Gotta love those mysterious illnesses.
Now, look kids, this isn't meant to challenge your mental cognitive skills or anything. It really doesn't mean a whole lot. It's like public art. It's there to look pretty and be pretentious. Think on that!
Oh yeah, camping on Fri-Sat will be one hell of a drunken hay-ride, if you catch my drift. And by that I mean we'll get drunk by the campfire, maybe say some silly things, and go home with "mysterious illnesses".
Gotta love those mysterious illnesses.