The undercurrents of society flow,
Like dreaming fog lights caught in the undertow.
A lone warrior fights only with himself,
So that soon one day he can be put on the shelf,
Ready to be picked at the drop of a hat,
Sadly misused I know not what is said.
Forty two mistletoe drive is where my baby lies,
Under the shade of my boondocks ride,
So long and farewell my princess belle,
No two times go together very well.