Some eyes are wiser than others. Some walk along the slick path, greased, while some go the road well covered. I would give you skill to see if you weren’t already leased. I was cruising down the grilled asphalt, when I saw a degenerated fool. So I danced by his window, laughed at his fault, tuned to the radio, waving him by, feeling the wind cool. Sometimes the questions of dead shades lose their flavour, when a man merely wants to move and twist. Why waste breath? Enjoy the moving glacier. The music rises; I sincerely find it bliss.
