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let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast,
we have seen it through the accolades and rested in it's lea, syntactic is our elegance, incisive our disease, the swath endogenous of ourselves will be our quandary, we've nestled in it's hollow and we've suckled at it's breast, grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept, frivolous gavel our design, ludicrous or threat, excursive expeditions leave us holding less and less, so what does it mean? when we tell ourselves it's only for a while we have been deceived and it's only for a moment that the treasures of our day make life easier to complicate, the treasure thrown away.... I'm so tired of all the messed up minds of all the fanatic religions and their pointless lines, of all the hand-me-downs from my fathers' crimes and the weeping mothers and those who are led so blind, from the plastic protests and the hands of time and the pursuit of mirth by all the hating kind Love the NZman
__________________
"THE OAR SNAPS IN HIS HAND BEFORE HE REACHES DRY LAND... BUT THE SOUND DOESN'T DEAFEN HIS SMILE" Love the NZman
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