Sophisticated look,
Hand once made of a gold watch,
Quirky smirk,
Ego that knew master hood,
Soft palms,
Knew just a touch of a cigar,
And a warm body, that;
****** the death of a lifeless man,
A man's lap is the dungeon where angels are held. That man.

See, Larry I got you a bear,
I don't want to see you cry, no!
Punch it Larry,
Again Larry, again,
Now even harder,
Let it burn with your anger,
Let it pay for the bus you missed,
She will learn to lose her fluff,
She will learn to lose her beauty,
She will learn to stay in the cold,
Only thing she won't,
Leaving your bedside.

Yours sincerely,
Wife.

Valley, if it was a valley,
Then she must have lost herself in there,
But didn't y'all ask her to hang on a little?
Yet you didn't send a dove to check,
Or maybe Noah's vulture,
I checked and I'm sorry it was a deep sea,
I'm sure the tears conspired against her,
They gathered and swept her down deep,
But don't dead bodies float?
Might be she still breathes beneath,
But still,
Y'all won't save her?

While you're young and getting stuff done, just hope you find that one genuine and informed person to guide you from your stupidity.
There are mistakes everywhere, if you did them, we live and we learn.

While you're young, have an investment culture, not just savings; it pinches hard to be a helpless provider.

While you're young, communicate and keep doing it, it keeps getting better.

While you're young and knowing where you belong, stay where you're visible and you will value every piece of fun you have.

While you're young, learn to forgive, you haven't met the real sins yet.

I found a place,
One to call home for my homelessness,
One with loud rhythms of Bad liar,
One too big to escape from,
So look me in the eye,
Tell me what you see,
Perfect Paradise,
Guess I wished my heart reflected it.

Time is a thief,
A thief of plans in our task notes,
A thief of dreams from our bucket list,
But time steals people too.
How is it we pass strangers through the streets each day,
Strangers who make it to the end of the day,
And those we were the last to see with hands in their pockets,
Strangers we don't get to see in their tinted cars,
And all those friends who turn into strangers,
Maybe we just should not take a thing for granted,
Guess of all we knew, one, if we'd be seeing them for their last,
We'd be a little kinder and sweeter than the freeloaders we've become.