How it's so you make me slow, a clumsy tortoise shell deep in snow, although I go, it does take time, due to your glow, which makes blind, any gaze that's set ablaze too long in time. I often find, like a rake through vines, that I get tangled when in line of your shine. You make me climb, to heights higher than they'd advise, it's effortless, I'm elevated, by you, day and night.

No longer given the answer seek the truth and see, that what you have is made through opportunity. Doomed that is he, who've thought it possible to reach Moon by the sea, or even, to be, groomed by a beast. Thoughts as such zoomed by with screech and now loom by the teeth, only for the while as I tuned out this breach, since frying bigger fish is the room that I seek, I reach, into abyss, a gloom that is deep, emerging as this, a baffoon headed sheep, in a crowd of uncrowd worthy creeps... Shepherded by visions of aluminous dreams... Which seem.... Impossible to redeem...