In all my Direction, with the fever of perception tying my feet together.
Carry my mind like a swimming Marxist inside of the liars Dens.
Look up to mother, or down so it be now, so my worries or more less hers can be squandered.
Rant and Rave to family that all is well with the world when the friends sit at home drinking their lives into a stupor.
Life comes by Fast and suddenly we are here in the air on the month of december,
Carrying Songs from November,
And loving thy self.
can we count for the Rest.
when my songs are just sung about you,
I know why i spend my Time Collecting my Sins.
So I can hand them to the earths god on a Platter.
Running in circles to get to the end,
so that I may start again,
and end again,
and start again,
To Entertain my Soul.
With Abstractions and Ambience.
The heavens Above?
Well im here right now, and the view is amazing.
But i see no angels,
and I am happy.
Partly fulfilling this to be experience.
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