Our lucrative minds find time to envelope it all, and these sitting pretty people seem to know no better way up to orchestrate their mediocrity days – born-to-be belonging we are simply otherworldly and one of a musical kind

High on gap-toothed smiles and tips of the upper chin to a plateau’d echelon of high-fired dreams – bohemian, beatnik wannabes carrying stars and states of stare near our roller-derby eyes

Kindly enthused and matching our own homestead groove, with nothing to prove to anybody but ourselves
We believe in being a rung above, away on a high ‘n’ mighty whim sinning til we make it all make sense

If this is serenity then bulletproof me in

We were winning even before we ever got to the ticker-taped beginning
I wanted all of this and right before my mind made moments matter again

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