Let's get illumination curves.
I don't wanna bear witness to this whole scene
Without a taste of the real thing.
I fell asleep in the wasted west
The sun welled up in its present and disparate springs
And revealed a current form.
I'm at the finger-twisting river's middle
Never mind the sweat on my brow
As I fret that I do nothing but roughly contemplate some path of action
Waiting to strike out, how?
Never mind that now,
Gotta find a way,
A better way out.