The withered tendrils slink and stalk The ever changing palaces we place on high Coinage and currency Diplomacy by mercenary Meandering minded mentats Round and round the hole The rabbit runs deep The fortune of the wise is to simply put the one before the two If I had a head I may, do something rash inside not out or ponder the gulf of Mexico or puff out my cheeks like some giant monkey squeaking wheels rolling down cobbled corridors, are endless Not that horses have peace or tranquility on cobbled roads with straw Or monkeys hide near their regrets. An open door can lead us or people or dust, a symphonie of particles peeping round about, in distilate recognition(how pointless to proceeed) without a rununcer, or an optimist. True, true I believe in mist and shadow too. And Babylon the great! Oh thou anarchy! Christ on Christmas Day Pagan pomp Dither on dally oh. oh. oh not. For southe far one dizying space, stars, vortex prayer for the dying, and Love.
