Not trying to impress

It's around the base of a tree and I expect you to meditate on it. That’s what the dig was for, you’re hair is too long and there is temptation a little past the normal DRIVE. Sick and conquer.

The train was a vehicle, dumbfounded by your basic understanding of physics; I ask how far the trajectory will take us- out of the bubble, that’s the idea. When you’re only calendar is from 1985, there is only so much confusion you can legally project onto my lack of grasp. You both pulled me into something you don’t even know about and to watch the product in a bizarro experience of racial outpost, you brought me to the roof and nothing will ever be so good. But in the whiskey driven quips, I see what I’m conflicted with and the old man is a challenge I might have not been ready to accept. The looks of clear profiling, scanning and appeal- we’re blind to it out of a universal benefit, but again, only human and sort of out there. Things happen. Told to tie it together, but that seems the most daunting. The sage burned so nice when he told me there was maybe a real thing, but the jolly Joe blinds a little girl with grandeur and expectations. Things only placed by her nativity. We have no idea what you know and to be on the streets with real things, buy an outcast, you better start minding the gap.