TIMMED-UP

The fascistic won’t stick to my solo I sing to a high note I pass in class to my boo hoo I cry in a pool of mango tree shade I wear in the sun cause my show is better than your show off quasi curves on a race track of mind I loose but can still turn my head to this natural vibration of exiting my body and finding new paths to new places I’ve been in a nocturnal vision of bliss is my path to follow nothing I want to be more than on the team of life lessons of arithmetic-toc my heart beats to the music that make my toes boogie on down the highway again only to pass by to say hello my friend.