(Note from Author(me) Read at a very slow and low tone, when reading this poem) you're going to Georgia, in the purple gloria of the soul the peaceful center of us all. "Georgia" screams the wanderer, wandering through the highway, wandering through his mindset. And in the end we are all magnets, trying and trying to breath. Oh, Georgia, my love for you is trojan, and better-bigger than your self inflected wounds. oh, Georgia, my love for you is timeless, it only screams my madness, and the mindset that i'm in. Get through the tunnel,in the end and in reverse come back again. baby, i'll be there. waiting for your ass that's long of spare. see you. mind you. kill you. greed you.and we're all having fun. Georgia, Baby, my heart on a plate is for yo. talk about stoned writting. mixed with the funky jimi hendrix style. Man, i discovered something new about jimi hendrix. He's like a bridge of black and white. he rocks out loud, but still you can percieve the funky sound on a black gown. But then, he speaks, with his probably long afro-american penis, and the sureness of the white man. with words like love you and come home. And his guitar won't shut her mouth. even though i find it less than clown, just let it, give it go. He also talks of the Lord. Which is what everyman should know. the father of us all. and the circle of the souls. wow. i'm really excited for qotsa tonight, man. i can't wait. peace!
that is some fucking nice writing man. and i mean that. now you jsut need music to go with it and hope you have an awesome time tonight
