A seemingly sane seamstress on a rusty steamliner. A pair of worn out shoes in a run down diner. The pitiful embrace of a cheesy one liner. Ending up drunk, fighting, left with my left eye a shiner. The stars begin to fade. I wake up shake off the spade and skip out on their parade. Seemingly mean green and overly lean. Down a black back alley smack dab in the middle of crack town. Approached by a roach pulling up in a coach while I choke on his smoke like I inhale is crooked joke. Further I blunder some somber others intent to bother. Studying decay the bygone left for dead nearly undead with cement feathered heads full of dreads sorrows woven in their clothes you can feel it in your toes. I have no clue what can I do but to accept reality change of mentality act unaccordingly to seemingly insane rhetorically mundane membranes in love with war and the games. The lakers and the raiders the golden west on fault certainly in default defiantly compliant tired retired re-hires for hire. Fell in love with a dove skewed ideas of what’s up above my hand didn’t fit that glove with a shove I nudge wiggle and budge on budget with a nugget. Filling up the blanks of an empty tank left rank feeling blank. Restraint is lost when the coins are tossed triple tied and double crossed all losses don’t add up to the cost frozen dry with a wet defrost that you exchanged for a behemoth too bad your squeamish.