You can write your life in elegies, the culture still remains the same
Some say we can make the truth or zero-knowledge from song and dance
Old and aged, insatiable and satiate our addictions lancing us on horses hedonistic
If I were a psychiatrist I'd read you, talk of zero summers, in Hebrew biopsy and medicines, a free think of hope, dangerous thing
But, soon wildflowers will be writing about you makes it worth selling, trouble bed's made and occupied by ***** and mead
If I were a state of mind, I'd be a person of my lines of stares
I write these as an essay on the highs of cultural expression, Tanks can also be a form of cultural expression
Maybe it's oppression on the fire of the year of ten soldiers on the freedom of the nightlight and lively likeness if we were searching for lost gold
It's a way we write about the memories and have free will and fears too, truant about freedom often losing courage and killing kings, queens often make out of it really sad
Rarely, raffle, rabble fiefdom, caviling censuring frenetic energy, virile yelling, on the catatonic hall in the cat in the LA Alhambra hall, or maybe souls pass in that dark hall
It is in the falling stars, into the years as they go by on the fault line of insatiate desires, burning fires in the circles of hell
Arriving in this Le suiva drama or friends in our pallbearers of different friends married to different soulS
Hangovers and everything, black and blue, white and black I cannot tell that the kitten is following in its the prologue of lithe likewise following the battered suitcases on the ways, and long ago
Something like this friendship and relations, festering autumn, seasons change and the summers brings the music of the piano man, Billy Joel
Plays in the freedom that reeks of freedom in the hallway, reflecting in the drunk cigarettes, starched shirts often come in the forum of swarth men, in the frescoed building painted with freewill to achieve
Heights for freewill and tumescence in tempestuous objectivity, of how we look at life, grades of herons, Freud's animals degraded in this foxtail, a plant across the house
In yonder tempered mental gaze, it's struggling to solve these worlds in fewer drinks and more works
Works offered their dreams, we offer the night terrors and midnight mistreatment
Treatize odyssey, riches to rags, muses can call me in my sleep and leave me out wry
Dry