And it was like the burning tide of the sun glistening on the surface flashing off the moons surface onto the water of my tears as they strolled down in happiness. Or was it sadness. And then came along onto the setup of a generation that flowed through themselves like early 19 hundred London they and I, covered in black smog they blundered through the time disillusioned by failure in their attempt to invent, create and learn to earn the respect so sought after that it was station
like train gain vein mane
the bigger the more trains
the group, wooden and trying for respectfulness. Billowing egos and red paint and blue paint and mess in tidiness of this period enforced by station. Prospects so important before the word prospect is known. Do we need that. Some think so. Clouded by the judgements that I made they were right all of them because the ones them and they, they tell it was right, trained and tamed like lions in the circus for which I never did see they held me in contempt when I tried to be different afflicted in desperation to the conformity of everyone else so hating the lives given and taken and procured for themselves. To say it ain’t so in the eyes of the rainbow that god lies on the other side of, foreseeing future struck by lightning as it came to an abrupt end in despair and jolly old upsetness.
To muster the courage of a thousand samurais just to confuse myself that I was ok, just ok, was all I can think of. my poor little brain took so much energy from all the lights and noise around that everyone was plunged deeper into darkness than they could ever excuse, away from my view between the heaven and purgatory what is that journey like, I digress, I know that you could never know what that is like as you address my outside the box views as I tell you how to peruse the letters between the words that fall into what we call normality and sentences. You must excuse my practice and my precision and hitting the nerve as I gas you like Auschwitz if that happened again would you see the truth that we all hurt each other by words. The words of truth do not come at an early stage.
The heaps and beeps and trips and lights and kites we have come to know and love and feel and become accustomed to like a Friday night is ‘drinking the guys under the table night’ is that a fable Gulliver says that it is up to us to decide what is true. The power was with him. The power was taken away. But he is not the hero of the story. The hero is yourself. In all your nakedness and glory. Tell the story with your body. The language you use, tattoo or stature is to be seen and heard throughout the ages. Agree to that and you can agree that we are destined to know each other. We are all alone. We just don’t have to be feeling like we are.
The longing of the words to come out right to explain how my mind plays the game that we are all in. the way the movies do. Like Tron. Once upon a time in…………. whoever you are, whatever your name is someone has done it too. Already to fix your money on that idea and you wont spend so much, so much time on worrying about dogs and clothes and parents and things you love and loathe. Younglings are like saplings of the tree all apart are stronger together can accomplish what we were set out for. We were made at the same time a few years incidental, and the lack of parental maternity is incidental to the situation it is still blood and belonging is what we desire. We are not all pirates to our fortune. Suckling on the decision to grow up to be how they want me to be. Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!Rebel!
This is all I can say to that. Whether it is right or not enforce it and when pissed off turn up the trouble and the treble of the most sickening song you can think of. You will be just fine if you ignore it but they will not be able to. The second they hear those words. See. the people saying those words are older than us. They do not come at an early age.
Oh wicked wisdom how you elude and how we wish you were a prelude to adult life. All the fun gone when you are realised. Oh wisdom leave my kingdom, I prefer to be blonde. Blondes have more fun. At least they come. Blondes have more fun. At least they come. Blondes have more fun. At least they come. I tell you those blondes are as confusing, hard to get, vicious, dumbfounding, mind boggling, faceable and fuckable as you, you wicked wisdom.
If you understand your mind may explode into being and exist with those notoriously famed heroes of ancient times. I am of course referring too the bountiful leather strapped cowboys. They would know what to say and do. It was all, all of it was so clear back then. Those good old days that were had between Columbus and Bush who has the right to say any of it was wrong or difficult, the easy decisions were there they just weren’t taken like the fact
the fat one let me go so soon couldn’t take care of what was in front of it only worried about what was inside. The creation of life so fantasial that we could only dream. And yes you should take more care of the youngest but that doesn’t mean the earnest would leave the older. They still want to learn and have the wooden trains to bear their pains and tears of good old jolly unhappiness. You should all take special advisement when you reprise the role of making someone and making them happy. don’t go overboard a special spiritual journey undertaken to help make you be is not going to change your life when you return to the big bustling city. That is where memories are manufactured in toys that girls and boys speak to instead of each other. Such good old jolly upsetness .
