On my way
on a moar.
Going out
to have a sore.
One got in
and one got aboard.
Without the sack
and not the chord.
Sadly lines
can never store
Above and behind
beyond the torn
Bright and brilliant
but just amournin'
Up and about
made in the morn'ng
Flipping fins
to get ashore.
High above
the crowded Seas.
No comments:
Post a Comment