well sprung, no ear for tounge ol major tong, for again you were wrong in the face of all signs and even your endless need to over complicate anything, even what you do as instructed and still you bust it.
One day major tong, we will finger out that issue of never knowing why nothing works in the head much any more, but smile son, you have the heart of a whale.

So wheels and reels, stealing yet another  no place to roam, for a home he races, with all the means and graces, yet when it is on the line and the rhythm is in time something disrupts the coming part of a party home to come.

I pray that simple is my means and muddy not my crazed ways, for she surly grows tired of me and my dashed and slayed attempts at making my way. So I blind melon a river for a whole soak in the bones that friend of fullness in shape that sin of the wave, maybe I can roll away and smile at the end of the day, maybe she may as well.