One before, one after




Wiggity wack
Friday, May 17, Year 2002
No angel at my core,
just a samurai made to bore.
A big, old hole in the gate of time
cracking into the perfect line.

Basketball peace and sugar rush
were my macho zen to hush the bush.
Aluminum foil scraping my pity like a morphine knife.
Bad rhythms flown on a kite.
A frosted moustache breaking off.
Go frosted moustache, do the right thing.
A cry for help, a super belch.

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Recharge
Ultimate solution
Ye olde sleep

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