...And the seas beat buttons that push you over.
Roll over,
Wake up.
Roll over.
You check the time quizically, and find that the quixotic lures of past romance don't do it for you no more.
So the quiz as in the test of your metaphoric testes begins.
Have you got the balls to play this intrinsic game of hide the snake any longer?
I dream of Genie?
No I dream of Basquiat, on bycycle, in heroine daze. Eyes glazed over with papier-mache sculptures of Joan of Arc, and Julia Child.
I'm on a quest, and the landscape suggests that the destination is both at my fingertips and far behind.
So possibilities are endless.
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