Twenty eight of ten, was ask what I did when.

I flashed right back,

to my most used tack,

But the mouth didnt know when to kick in.


Was it fighting Mita or Ddsa,

Or making Toyota better?

Repairing banks twenty four seven,

Or fixing every little thing?


Was it reading those books,

Or grappling at hooks?

Or allowing those frends to away?


Was it biting the bit,

or taking a hit?

Just to allow the machines to tick ey?


For I just take an interest,

pound at the precept,

Till my mind wears itself away.


Now turning that off,

Is a method not frost.

And its the hardest strategy to play.


From the book of the dead,

To inside Guru’s head,

Everytime there is something to say.


From ay eye,

to goodbye,

Our glidings is like freedoms flow play.


Hodling in a corner,

scooting multi meta world ya,

With melenials enjoying each and every day.


Sure they have tantrums,

tell yarns like its their sons,

Yet – can just smile and grin in dismay.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *