Here come dat boi hey wassup? Here come dat boi hey wassup? Here come dat boi hey wassup? Here come dat boi hey wassup? Watch him rollin watch him go Watch him rollin watch him go He be rolling down the street he be rolling to dat beat He be rolling down the street he be rolling to dat beat Watch him roll Hey wassup Watch him roll HEY WASSUP!!!
Amongst the leaves I am a conductor I have guided their hue and told them their future they have agreed
I am a wanderer, I am Bede and lost amidst the cockles I have bled and tasted the Salton Seas
I will give my entire wealth of the universe which is replenished I will show the world the gift of my unknown
It is soft chocolate that has melted in the heat It is a love that is unrequited and dies inevitably
I am a philosopher and upon my hill I view some lady in the garden She is beautiful but of the state and in that way I cannot be I am a trader of knowledge and wealth is the secret I guard enviously She will never have this treatise
I will grow old and wither on the steps of the acropolis I will become food for the olivine complexion of her skin I will be the very foundations of her visions I will touch the corneal fragments of her children
I have never been to Texas. I have never been to the star-spangled states. I would like to. One day. I want to drive along the mobius ***** highway, On the right-side-wrong-side-not-the-left-side of the road in a right side driver seat car. I’d watch the kilometers miles tick by. To look to the horizon and see the lone, level lands stretch away into nothingness. I think that would be pretty great. I would drive and drive and drive and drive. I would drive right into the absolute oblivion of a West Texas highway at night. The stars would be brighter there.
I really like the mountain goats also I cannot figure out how to publish this SIKE you just use that drop down box huh
Lick my Crocs As I swing from tree to tree. They taste like dreams. See my toes as I swing by. Don't look too hard though, For I'm not too perfect. There is perfection in imperfection.
My sillage lingers on behind for you. Smelling of wild gardinias. Your thoughts still see me in Memories like cinamatic films That will inevitably fade.
I swing by And our eyes meet in a temporary gaze. Let's break it and keep swinging. My touch is gentle to the branch on which I swing. It supports me well; I trust it with my life. Day after day, it looks to me. I water it and keep swinging. I can be no other's branch, For I am busy!