Over and over and over again, I try to make a mess. From time to time I can smile though, grinning my yellow teeth, which for once, are less yellow than the sun in the beaming sky. And for these times, I am at least satisfied with something. Whether it's the weather or my friends, whether it's the promise or the kiss; my eyes are looking bright, sparkling at the future.
I will try to understand, everything has it's plan. Either way i am gonna stay right by you. Until my last deep breathe before my vast attempts. Breathing buckling down to nothing. Waves all crashing on trashy pronouns. With wings all flapping like some syndrome's pone cooked up from ashes laid over stone. It must of the been the summer weather burning up my native supper. Looking up from Aden's cupboard, for a cup to fill with water; I realized the dumb, dreaded, dead headed, actions all regretted piece of yuppy-fuck-scum i had so willingly become. Big headed and colorful t-shirts, counteractive by handing out research. Mean spirited, hypocrite, dream fearing kid, all ready to make a plan to bring down his brothered man. And I was fixing to sell out hemp-dwelling and bud-smelling for a new grasp at the bulging cash, under a pretty Ringo Starr mustache.
I like to dream of troubles all away on a bed of California stars.
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