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Really Saeng-Fah, are we going to have another day  of  chiding your self for things you don’t need to chide yourself for Or hating yourself for small supposed mistakes when upon later reflection were fine Where does this tension holed up in the side of your skull escape to when you smoke that zoot or **** that man, dance all night , hold yourself close Roll into the avenues of peaches and crème my dear girl they are yours for the taking They are yours for the making They are yours              hallucinating is all we are doing . We can not stop wrongs The game plan too strong Follow the half baked road to redemption, nestle in amongst the feelings of unsureness Whistle the tune of freedom Live well Today – Breathe , cinnamon chai tea steam smoke as first break fast The day has barely begun, the growing stronger sunlight shines through window pane , hitting shutters of light brown wood,  the ****** of a wind chime plays her notes here and there  , whilst the sounds of the human created habitat plays on. The sigh of a bus coming to a stop, the crunch of a streetcar on tracks
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Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
Roll into the avenues of peaches and crème my dear girl
Really Saeng-Fah, are we going to have another day  of  chiding your self for things you don’t need to chide yourself for Or hating yourself for small supposed mistakes when upon later reflection were fine Where does this tension holed up in the side of your skull escape to when you smoke that zoot or **** that man, dance all night , hold yourself close Roll into the avenues of peaches and crème my dear girl they are yours for the taking They are yours for the making They are yours              hallucinating is all we are doing . We can not stop wrongs The game plan too strong Follow the half baked road to redemption, nestle in amongst the feelings of unsureness Whistle the tune of freedom Live well Today – Breathe , cinnamon chai tea steam smoke as first break fast The day has barely begun, the growing stronger sunlight shines through window pane , hitting shutters of light brown wood,  the ****** of a wind chime plays her notes here and there  , whilst the sounds of the human created habitat plays on. The sigh of a bus coming to a stop, the crunch of a streetcar on tracks
*Saeng-Fah=My name written this morning.
Fah
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Fah
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
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