I've got five songs in my head that just wont come out.
My book is kinda a bore,
but who am I to pout.
Its just kind of frustrating,
to sense some potential.
In fact its a little degrading.
The light of the radio seems to be fading.
It's not my only light,
but it is much more invading.
My guitar is too loud for this time.
I can't wait to have my own house,
but I'm just too stagnant its a real tough climb.
I've got too many aspirations.
I have no starting line.
All I know is there are six or seven.

You ask why I don't trust you,
Well why would I? Just because you want me to?
You slept with me on our first date, what bond of trust can be formed?
You never abstained,
You never denied yourself,
The quenching of desire is not a human right,
Nobody would buy a used *** doll,
So consider yourself blessed that I've given you myself,
Even with knowing what you've partaken in.

You say you want change,
You even go to protests, you say,
But as I look at your body of work ,
All you have to say is,
"I wasn't the one who broke those windows",
You don't do anything, you just yell among other yells,
Get over yourself, you aren't anybody,
Do something, don't say something,
Mr. nobody from nowhere,
The martyrs blood is worth so much more that the screamers spit,
Or even the writers ink,
You don't know art,
You don't act,
You just assume your overheard opinion is worth enough for us to listen.

Last night I had a dream,
Before I went to sleep,
I dreamed I rested my head on your body,
And we talked,
You rested your head on my shoulder,
And we created art,
All I want to do now,
Is sing a song with you,
And that's what I got to do,
But that was just a dream, its time to go to sleep.

You can lead a horse to water,
But you cant make the water surrender.

When I'm feeling broken, beat up or put down,
sad, lonely and had my soul tossed around.
I'm heartened to know I look up to see,
the same sky that you've placed your dreams.
You taught me lessons I know were true,
and made me feel so very close to you.
What you wrote touched me in a high degree,
I never realized what was lacking inside of me.
You taught me to sing of love not hate,
helped me to understand a child's loving state.
And I truly believe you, when you said,
You'd rather see earth from in a child's head.
You helped me float in my own fairy tale,
though I lived among people who lived life very stale.
So thank you little miss Aksnes, I love you in a way,
I don't know how to say it but you've molded my heart like clay.

And though we haven't been here long,
You have so much wisdom within your songs.
This earth needs you its always crying,
Its just been born, but its in danger of dying.
The words you wrote has made me think,
this language I write can be more than just ink.
I listen to you, and I picture valleys,
Even if I'm walking through run down alleys.


The fun I saw you having since day one,
made me for the first time realize, emotion can be sung.
You must have fallen down from the sky,
they don't talk about the star girl, and I don't know why.
And when I feel like crying because the world's in rough shape,
I know you'll be there to help me escape.

Your home is about one million miles from mine,
I think perhaps its helps your beautiful rhymes.
You took me to lands that do not exist,
but somehow turned my world into their wish.
Because of you I reflected,
on the side of me I'd rejected.
What you mean to me just cant be said,
I'm trying real hard but before I finish I'll be dead.

Athena takes my hand,
And removes me from my village,
And the sky has opened wide,
For the gaze of love to find us,
And when she took me to her house,
I knew that it was pleasant,
She said, here you go, Ive taken,
All the things that made you certain,
And she gave her misfortune ,
To drain the group of rich men,
From their army camp of freedom,
And she took it all in one stride,
Yes, Athena lit a fire,
And shes woven a fine blanket,
And filled it with a child,
That she took away from heaven,
The crystal ball is glowing,
Even though it has stopped knowing,
and it tells of the secrets that we've kept beneath our candor,
forevermore...

Under the water,
the blackness spreads to my soul,
The lilies can't help.

Blissfully staring at Cinderella.
Her beauty stuns, and takes your soul along a blind trip,
into her castle and you feel the wonder,
though you cannot see,
you know where you are,
but somehow you know not at all of your location,
but the feeling, Its worth all other senses to feel it for one moment.

We will surely know a genius ,
Not by his coat,
Or lack of weakness ,
The fact that he gloats,
Or a vocal cleanness,
But by the fact ,
That inevitably,
All the imbeciles,
Will be stacked in opposition.

Please don't pretend you care,
About morals as if they always mattered,
You make a living of of vulgarity and one night stands,
And if not,
You at least support that life,
So why hold leaders to any morals shackles,
When you cut them of yourself before you could even walk?
Your high horse is a centaur.

I remember times when ****** where looked down upon and shunned,
Not like now,
When they are championed and called heroes,
Only in a sick, Twisted, modern society, they will tell you that it is done out of Anything other than sheer desperation.

Changes are coming you'd better conform,
they're approaching  quickly your old ways are worn.
So take out your weapon fight the good fight,
If you are not a fighter than preach what is right.
And though your heart may be weary at first,
it will soon reach the point where it kills the old curse.
Destroy all the fake ways and typical words,
accept that the new world is turning the herds.
The stories been told, the ending is bleak,
If you think you can fix it your mind must be weak.
The "**** Superior" is proving to be fake,
but you better get a-moving or you'll expose 'your the snake.

Mother is feeling like dirt again,
I have to do something to please her.
Maybe scream?
maybe cry?
poke my brother in the eye?
Whatever the case shes feeling hurt again,
I have to make my act a little cleaner.
I will have to poke my brothers eye,
that will fix mothers sad, teary cry,
but where's my brother?
where is he?
I need him soon, no wait...I need him instantly.
Maybe he's here,
maybe he's there,
maybe he's cutting off sisters hair.
I guess the cat will have to do,
But I can't hurt him he's to cute,
so I'll just get ma some flowers.

I dream once again of pastures gold.
Of midnight jesters, and pleasures old.
I remember the scent of the forest,
The Moss and the snow.
(Did I know?)
With sober certainty of waking bliss,
I look upon Willows red and chestnuts green.
Will I wake one day to find my body aching?
The thought never occurred.
So I continued.
And stood passive to see
corporate Christmas lights-
bridge lights at One AM.
(Og missikken stopper)
Hiking through ruins and fairy tale cedars
to roadside gas stations and gone under theaters.
Under the shadow of the hills at dusk.

The scent of coffee fresh to sell
drifts past us on our way
to fast food parking lots beside midnight hotels.
Music and roses late at night.
The sun beating down and blinding,
Once winter has broken free from the bonds of Christmas.

But I fret, I age and I fret.
(Will I do something that I regret?)
And how will I spend my time?
Imitating an aging cat?
I would rather watch the cars at night by the water,
music paused
than drive myself.
I've considered my ways and turned my feet.
I will remember my song in the night;
I will meditate with my heart.
And why? Out of all I did, why did I never have the mind to ask:
“When all is done what will I say?
Will I regret a single day?”
And what did I think when I said:
“I have time to hesitate,
to make my plans but decide to wait.”
To count every grain of sand and call it de rigeur
To give up early and call it a tie.
to turn off the light but not know why.
I should have been born a floating balloon.
I should have dragged myself through the trees.
And I watched my life.
I revised my dreams
to fit reality.
And was it worth it?
May I reverse the clock?
And did I spend too much time tending the lawn,
And not appreciate the grazing fawn?
(Og missikken stopper)
I find now that I bore my own hell.
And I only vaguely recall
the trips I took, yes, I forget!
(or regret?)
And what motions did I follow?
Shall I give up? Am I defeated?
(When did my hair get so thin?)
Now I've grown weary with my moaning
and the cycle will soon burn out.
Shall I give up what I began?
I must be defeated.
No.
I shall remember not the former things, nor consider things of old.
I shall walk along the pier as the water grows cold.
But Again I hug the shore and allow others to brave the deep.
(Og missikken er over)
And I look back
at many summers many false love
Nothing else causes such pain.
And perhaps a few were true.
But that, I refuse to accept.

But most importantly I remember
the sisters of grace.
Who tended to me so kindly
So I walked with caution. For I had the map.
But I fell, I fell.
I said:
“I shall make this damp cave my home.”
And asked:
“But which one?
Who is it that I love?
I feel so strongly for both though I cannot choose
I must climb from my hole”
But I couldn't move, I wouldn't dare
(Its worth a try, just look at her hair.)
I'll have to decide
or else just let my feelings die
So Again, I chose to wait, I waited too long
And just as they came the sisters were gone.
Leaving me behind. I don't claim them wrong.
(Og missikken stopper)
My back now hurts, my knees crack.
And was it worth it, to plant a garden alone.
Is it worth it when the bald spot on my head has grown,
and what I called joy was merely a clone
and you find that you never had a home
and love did come but you let it go?
Was it worth it in the end
to build a god of desire?
(When did my bed grow so uncomfortable?)
A god out of reach.

But at last they sing and usher in dawn,
Till our eyes finally open, and we're gone.

The cobblestone pathway leads to a river,
the blue water somehow runs clear.
The pathway goes on through the steepening slopes,
and the crystal caves come into sight.
I see wild flowers among the high pines,
and step on to the gold satin sand.
We dove underwater and soon we discovered,
that beneath the clear wave we could still breath.

I was walking along the brook,
landed in one of them corn mazes from the books.
I started running,
started funning,
'till I gone and ran into a corn stalk,
I hit it so hard I forgot how to talk,
I could barely walk.
It don't matter,
just started going faster.
Well I found my way to the end,
but across the field I saw a radish bend.
Ah well, I guess its the weekend,
and Id rather run the radishes than come to an end.
And I ran,
oh yes I ran.
I ran here,
I ran there,
in the sky,
nearly trampled a guy...

Yeah he was yellin',
at me,
I said whats up.
And then he says this, he says:
I own these here radishes,
Go on ***, get outta mah FaRm.
Then, I dunno, I guess I was just really cool,
I was able to convince him, that this here, was my farm.
And that's the story of my farm.

August is the coldest month,
A stark contrast from the warmth of April.
Yet still,we forget the truth, that the seasons are built to **** us.

The doorbell rings very frequently where I live.
It is almost always too late in the night for me to bother with it,
So I let it ring.

When I decide, finally, to let the visitor in,
I can say for certain, at that moment if I have made a mistake.
Sometimes you just can't see through the keyhole.

I don't forget how lucky I am to be alive,
You'll never know, but I will remember.
So, mistake or not, I am pleased to entertain guests.

And around the table, as we sit, I am the only one to smile,
The demons have come and I am finally ready to speak with them.
I welcome them, and though they call me friend,
(And I to them.)
They greet me with disdain.
I am just pleased to have been able to finally address them.

People are walking down the street,
during the final apocalypse ,
radios on their big feet,
the jails are empty and all stripped,
and Micheal Moore might call it,
republicans old warship.
It's all our fault we built a world on ideas of ownership.

As the world sat there dying,
the remorseful dragon was bled,
and the leaches are all crying,
their brothers are all dead,
and I know though my silver spoon shines,
in the moonlight it turns to lead,
I sat there on the mountaintop and watched tom thumb break his leg.

The popular trend is collapsing,
the pirates are heroes too,
the tree now is alive and clapping,
what were once lies are now all true,
but ages pass and still we know ,
that every day is just a clue,
I ran across the border along with Napoleons entire crew.

The glass coffin it has a leak,
snow white is looking for love,
but all that people want is a peak,
and all she gets is mud,
behind her sunken eyes we can see,
a dam that will soon flood,
she kept it hidden long enough to water every shrub.

Everyone you knew has been abandoned,
They didn't last long on their own,
the prizes they always branded,
are gone its like they never were owned,
and even when the memory returns,
they'll just be a name on a stone.
And the people worth more than others are now just dirt and dirt alone.

Gandhi was walking his rat,
and he handed him a flower,
he said there you go Mr. diplomat,
but don't get drunk with the power,
and even with all of the things he yelled ,
the rat jumped off of the tower.
And we are now left to determine what to do in our last hour.

The ****** was again, alone,
with the memories of his father,
who was famous for many different tones,
he played while on his swather,
and he knows deep down he killed his pa,
there no excuse for hes a doctor,
and know he has to be punished so he kidnapped his own toddler.

The sideshows are all empty,
the freaks have all gone home,
the first to die are the the yetis,
the first to live are made from foam,
we remember this but forget the rest,
if we must we will build catacombs,
but be careful if you don't comply with them they'll take you up into their domes.

The *****’s name,
Is the politician’s claim,
He only has to gain,
Until it can rain,
And slow down his train,
And land his airplane,
Its all just in vain,
They'll use you until they feel pain.

You have always wondered what darkness is,
You have always hoped to see it,
You even asked me to show you,
But I know if I gave you the gift of darkness,
(For I indeed Know darkness)
You would burn it,
And say,
"That is not darkness...See how much light it has made"

Og Plato synger på øya, men på gatene snakker kvinnene dårlig og du står i mellom og alle ser deg, men ingen ser deg.

Ear           Pupils        Get
Drums     have           to
are            a                 know
really       good           your
funny       way            feet
when        of                they
there         letting        are
is                you            your
nothing     see             best
else            the             friends
to               world
hear

Why do we fear death?  Perhaps its the fear of the unknown, but we did not fear the world as we left the womb, so why is death to be feared? It's just as natural as being born, but we still seem to be un-expecting as it approaches us, and surprised when we realize it is near.

We are in fact, just as destined to take our last breath, as we are to take our first.  It is because with our earthly blindness, all we are able to see is the decaying body of those passed, that we think there is any difference between birth and death. We rarely think about a next phase, and when we do, most dismiss it as idealization. When did we become so blindly trusting in our own "intellect"?  And so ignorant to the idea that this world is just one step in a larger scheme?

I cannot fully put into words why we feel like we do on this topic, but I can try to speak on my behalf.  I don't believe (as I've been told,) that it is the farewell to the deceased, that makes the difference between birth and death, or our lives would be in disarray before that person entered it.  I think it is the fact, that all we have ever known is in life. There simply is no way to imagine where the person has gone. This differs from a fear of the unknown.  What I am saying now is that, We can see life created, and follow that life's story, we can share in the moments with them, but when they pass, even if you fully believe in a next step, we cannot see, or follow them any longer.  They have abandoned us, all we have ever been taught to see is now gone. something beyond our comprehension will happen next.  It is like trying to imagine a new color, it is simply not possible.  So why should any single one of us expect to understand an entirely different form of existence? I think that is why we fear death.  Not because of the unknown, but because of the complete lack of understanding and the fact that the few things we do understand, crumble with death.

All the animals scurry through the vast woods,
they secretly look across the field to see two legged animals.
Follow them home,
stare at the home,
oh what a beautiful home.
"But look!"
Said one deer in lonesome fascination
"The heads of our brethren hang there"
"Why not us?"
"How much less beautiful must we be?"
They scurry back.
Quickly, quickly! To tell the others.

"What a majestic meaning in life...to be a wall hanging,
I must become a creature worthy of this life"
They all said in unison.

As hunters come and go, all but the lucky ones get their wish granted,
and the rest have the minds to run fast and chauvinistically,
to show off, in hopes of being hung for the world to admire.
Without a soul, and never the free will that the forest granted.

And as one deer is shot, all young doe frantically scream...
"can't you believe it, I knew him before he was along the wall!"
and...
"He wagged his tail at me, you saw it, he really did!"

I found you in the summer,
Your button nose charm enticed me
To learn to love you, and know you,
Thin as a twig, you entered my life,
But you were filled with so much.
Such a gentle soul.
Such enormous energy.
Long and flowing brown hair, shining in the sun,
With eyes to match it.
You just have a way
of making me feel grateful.

If this was part of Hitlers game,
Why then do we make the claim,
That it helps women and Jews the same,
But Its really just another name,
For Evil.

Pointed sticks that face the sun,
Stolen homicidal guns,
Evil men that stand there stunned,
Even though they wanna run,
Its futile.

Guns that fire, guns that stun,
Apparently are fit for none,
Believing them seems pretty dumb,
They've shown how they are human ****,
They're insane.

In my pocket, digging around,
Looking for every last dollar and pound,
When your not happy with what you've found,
Its time for you to send the hound,
You thieves!

But those who say "power to you",
Are accused of the things they would never do,
Attacked and burned for every break through,
Punched for wanting a better view,
You are the problem.

Protested for wanting to free you all,
Beat up for wanting a freedom call,
They say freedom is a right to all,
But the others they make their stories tall,
And I say that's not fascism, its Tuesday.

Grab your pitchforks run him outta town,
only because his skin is brown.
If he knocks on the door don't let him in,
only because he lacks white skin.
Punch his face with a bang and a whack
only because his skin is black.
Pull out your gun shoot him in the head,
only because he grows his dreads.
Lock him in jail for nothing bad,
call him a loser and a deadbeat dad.

If you don't think you've gone too far,
you're wrong, your soul's as black as coal tar.

Jeg kan høre det milde havskummet,
Det berører bakken så nær hjemmet sitt.
Skjønnhet vevd i sitt rustne gylne hår,
Jeg har ikke kjent henne lenge, men *** lar meg gå på lufta.
Det er noe *** har, en slags nåde,
Det skinner som en gemstone gjennom ansiktet hennes.
Hennes øyne kan være gjennomsnittlig på noen andre,
Men i hennes ser jeg himmelen, et hjerte smelter meg.
*** har barnslig lurer og jeg elsker det så,
Og *** gir av det mest lunefullt lys.
Selv når vi står på den kalde betongen,
Jeg kan se blomster spring opp rundt føttene hennes.
Jeg tror jeg elsker henne, ja, det gjør jeg!
Nei jeg gjør det ikke, det kan ikke være sant.

-Det tynne barnet bak deg.

Things are changing fast, just as they should,
They've changed for the worse, now let's change for the good.

The national pride has dwindled and died,
Call us whatever you want, we have God on our side.

Please do not fear what tomorrow might bring,
This extends further than a political wing.

I'd like to give The EU a personal thanks,
You've shown what a cancer man can create.

Were turning our backs and we're done with your games,
If the countries collapse, we know you are to blame.

So thank you La Pen, You care for your land.
We'll show those ******* where to stick their grand plan.

You are not a poet,
Just as I am not a poet,
But that does not mean we cannot write poetry,
Perhaps one day we will be named poets,
But just as we are not poets,
Whoever grants us that title also can't be a poet,
So all I can wish to do,
Is touch the hearts of my fellow title tossers.

Hate speech,
Exists to teach,
That to disagree is to hate,
But with no constitutional breach,
It can silence free speech and debate.

If you don't like me I apologize,
But that does not mean I'm unwise,
It does not mean I hate you,
But I will not stop just to give you wide eyes,
Hate speech just isn't true.

I do not have the
attention span for reading
haikus, so i wont

Well it seems that one million miles from my home
where the water is clear and the valleys are gold
And the land that is really home to me
is all the way across the sea

I hold in my hand my soul and my fate
I try to use gold when lead would be great
I can tell even though I cannot see
The land that I care for is full of beauty

The old me is gone and I miss his laugh
But he's captive now in a photograph
And the many great things I could have seen here
have vanished with time and gone with the years

Ive looked through the sky and fallen like rain
the place that I landed was never explained
the mobile I was given from a drunken clown
painted my smile just like his cold frown

for how far I've traveled Im in the same place
sometimes I doubt life isn't a race
and even with all the trips round the sun
time can **** pain just as good as a gun

Behind the stories of old bad luck,
lay Lucifer and his surrogate beginning to ****.
Draining every swamp of muck,
releasing the morbidly hunted buck.
You married the woman who carries the child,
Satans last son, you are now in denial.
Swallow your pride this is not done in style,
we the people have brought our own trials.

The land I was born in,
is crumbling fast.
The civil war took it,
Into its cold grasp.
We had no defense,
Though we had a forecast.
Perhaps if we pray we'll unite at last.

The place I was brought up,
Is now just a hole.
the bombs they where dropped by...
our own flagpole.
The Reds they did nothing,
in fact they helped pray,
perhaps if we join them we will mend someday.

Though no war was declared.
I know history'll tell,
the cities were roaring,
you could hear every yell.
The guns they got fired,
the guns made of gold,
I know if we wait dear, we'll survive the cold.

We used to have battles,
to get to the moon.
But now we start wars just,
to earn silver spoons.
The battle you can't win,
but if we all die,
just know that we tried hard, to fight the good fight.

The chemicals we spread,
they hurt God more.
when he sees us suffer.
And start backyard wars,
He has a good reason,
to not pick a side.
The reason our side fights, is to stay alive.

If I am alive when,
the world war three comes.
I know that in battle
is where ill become:
just a brick of carbon
in a world full of life
the war zone is ready, we live in its strife.

A bullet that comes from,
your neighbors handgun,
it hits you and tells you,
that your life is done,
but we will all destroy,
this battle of hate,
there's nothing we can do, perhaps we just wait.

the old time America,
has breathed its last breath.
The Communists and all,
the racists face death.
If I was to be there,
I would say no way,
we've seen enough death now, to last a decade.

The court rooms are empty
the laws have all died,
if we could rebuild it,
this country could thrive,
but let us not make all,
the same old mistakes.
This land that I love is: facing an earthquake.

It is over in most ways,
in  others its worse.
the temper of those man,
has cast a a new curse.
There's nothing that's been won,
when death is so rich.
I hope we learn lessons while digging the ditch .

Would you feel the pain,
if a million emotions hit you like rain?
Would you understand,
if they fell on you like grains of sand?
How then would you approach it,
if you were called a counterfeit.
Could you handle it?
You'd probably wanna sit.
I can tell you everything,
and man its gonna sting.

I always carry in my pocket a string.
And tied to that string there is a watch,
I like to dangle it above the Funny little creature named sorrow.

Around my neck I keep a chain,
with little picture of family on it.
And I use it to mess with that little gremlin called hate.

I carry also just a small picture,
of some lady I'll never know.
I fold it into an airplane and let that wily lust chase it.

I carry a harmonica in my jacket,
even though I am not skilled.
And use it to SCREECH at that savage beast known as my aspirations.

Pinned to my shirt,
I carry a pin from HRC.
And poke that slithering thing called honesty.

Taped to my boot,
I carry a miniature tombstone.
And let the amphibian called friendship chew on it.

And In another pocket,
I have a flashlight.
And I always shine it right in the eyes of that squirming thing called fear.

I also to carry a Quran,
And use it quite consistently,
to silence love, and teach true hate.

Finally in my back pocket,
I have a the communist manifesto,
And I beat Trust and freedom to near death.

It crashed to the ground,
So hard it shook the planet,
It was heard around the world,
Cracked the earth and all its granite,
Which made a louder sound,
And The Jörmungandr curled.

Its closing hour at the harbor,
I didn't see any whales today,
perhaps I would have, If I looked harder.
If I could, I really would like to stay.

But its to hard to sneak past the guards,
and whales don't like the moon,
so I'd rather lay back to see the stars,
than sit inside a quiet cocoon.

Beneath the willows of the sea,
the quiet beast still sings,
a lonely semi-silent decree,
of all his deadly loving kings.

For nothing comes with the first stride,
and everyone who was, is still alone,
now, if there was still a place to hide,
It would be full of all the wind that you've thrown.

Lost behind the folds of time,
the lies that were always called truth,
are gone because you realized ,
no wisdom is given with youth.

I was told I would be safe when we put down our guns,
But it seems to me like we **** people before they can run,
Its a disaster,
If you oppose you are shunned,
We act like we're the masters,
But even children have only one,
And how dare you think,
That any of your emotions are worth more than a life.

You will not long be remembered,
Not with the perspective you gave me.
But what you have done will forever affect history.

You've left the wire,
Like a man, fighting a fire,
I'm just glad,
That you got to be free.

Dear Brother Jesse:

Papa Piglet has been telling me stories lately. Those conventions sound really fun, and someday I would love to make it to one. Unfortunately its hard for me to make it to the meetings. And just to get to stage two costs ₹12,000. Stage one sounds hard too, I think I would have trouble making it to all the auctions. Maybe religion just isn't for me....(?)

Your fellow Whifling,

-Mobard

My dearest Leopold:

The blind birds propaganda course is enlightening. Yeah, Ive taken it, In fact, Ive taken it once a week since June 7th, 2015. The boat started sinking on that day as well... Probably just a coincidence. I apologies if I come off as acclumsid but that devil has got my mind in a twist. I think being an afterling of this great man is an honor, unfortunately I'm not sure that he enjoys my company.... He already has his own little Heinrich Himmler. The button nose girl popped up again. This time outside of a dream. Quite a queer circumstance... She never stops bluttering and she is a bit of a daggle-tail and feather-head, but I feel what I feel.  Anyways I can hardly believe it has been three fortnights since last we had correspondence, But the elves are riding scamper like a horse and its been quite a hassle to get them off.

Always with flerd,

-Lorenzo

Howdy Mr. Jones:

The dinosaur was the most interesting animal on the Titanic that month. The dinosaur (whos name was Joan) was unfortunately, on the floor, dead as any pile of bones you'll ever hear of.  The room was full with Characters, who traveled lightly from abroad. From wonderland and Oompavil and Sherwood forest and mars' second biggest moon.  In the room, Rashida: Queen of Forest Rhythm, bounced around the room, jangled up against the lead wind chimes, and flew right smack into the portholes. And the King, stood on his pedestal, With his silver scepter pointing away, so that he could think deeply about who exactly he is king over. And the girl with the button nose running frantically, for no reason. And screaming gibberish but we all just let it slide. And Floobert: Ruler over the Toddlers, Yelling "floobee flooblah floobobo bafloo." And little Adolf starting to grow up before our eyes. He starts talking like a fish, and in his fish tongue says "every man for themselves" So now we start thinking, "are we mans? Or are we selves?" Then, When all hope is lost, the sweet girl with the button nose drop-kicked Adolf.  That is all I remember... It was a good month.

Forever *******,

-Iguana