Angels falling down on the grass, the gentle wind sweeping down the mountain side, how can it be so peacefull, this time of year, the changes of seasons bewildering to observe, the romance in the air is so stark, so clear and so right.
Rythmic movements in the ocean, floating on the top of it all, every inch is filled with flowing rowling curves, the msucles tightend on this summer breeze morning
the soft wind tickles the skin, fills your lungs with thin GIN
the train is accelerating, we are heading to the city, into the metro, many working people, crowded coffeeshops, smokefilled cafees
the cockyman sings hes song by the piano, he has all the luck with the girls, so charming he is, snake eyes hipnotising, sensualising, snake eyes, drinks and glasses flying in the air, oops their flew a shoe this bar filled with strippers and bartenders, are drippling, long days of work.
CAN YOU FEEL THE STRAIN; are you all right
outside on the countryside, the farmer pulls hes plough, draging the soil, after him creating supperb quality sowing for the purpose of harves. the Busssy and methodical it is, the life on the farm, the time goes slower there, but that doesent mean your of duty, lots of tasks to undertake, to give and take, thats the motto on the farm, Give and take, earn your good brake after many ours of seaty work
air shimmering, pulsating, the puls is overwhelming
Good Lord Gibson, 459 pounds of man, sits on the park bench, rises, up goes for a stroll, hes so much time to live, eat foas grass, and see the world around him crumble while he does not seem to give a damn, hes so selffish,and selfabsorbed, nothing faces him, arrogance is hes device to get through life as the man of hes stature, but he does not care, for only he dares to walk the lions share of ordeals walking with the pounds on hes legs, hard to gain, hard to maintain, gosh, what to do, ooohh yeah fly to Hawaiii
Hawaii is the place to be for old Lord Gibson, hes raising the race car of life, doesnt look back, only looing forward, on the road ahead, (on Hawaii) faster, faster faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, into the vulcano pooof
the sadness of death of life lost to ashes, and to dust the final voice of reason the final breath of air, but life is a cirlce bettter live it a full spin then, to fear its end, soaring life and happy times, passes by, better keep them holy in every hour, of every day, every year, give it all your diseres for a full life.
this is the story of chance, of chaos and of finality, lets this be a lesson to time, and to eternal spirit of mumbojumbo, blablabla