Really, we are
Just that I haven’t started as of yet
But, rest-assure, I will get there some way or another – smother the whole damn thing oh so bountifully
Sit with my four strings and bring everyone so far away from forlorn that the real deal will be sealed
They get to say finally but, trust me, it’s been happening, been tracking its very own existence every other day
Just that these heads have yet to splay themselves all about the place
No-one cares what race I am, handsome and that’s the bottom line
Fine wine aside Woodbine
Sublime lines all courtesy of just one woman – the one who sits with her Louboutin heels dug in, thinner than anything we may have ever seen before
Try and start to adore the replication of your very own mother only perhaps ten times over

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