To Each His Own

Where I come from, that’s a pound or two,
tie it to a balloon and let it loose or it’ll smother you,
Clean your ears, tie up your shoes, I guess it’ll be a trick to lie in the deep and murky blue,
Float on narrator, tell of your woes, tread on the stories of long gone, mild and loving toes,
and paint the summer with a colour we don’t know, …we’ll take a cutting, and plant our own.

That means more than a simple deed, a stable saddle only tends to rest on a faithful steed,
he treads with care on heather, wearing leather, proud and pleased… oh blow your nose, your still a creature, bound, nought, crispy, spreading seed.

Clever girl, dancing on your own, unbeknown you’ll always be dancing with the sombre seeds you’ve sown,
lets dance as one, lets steam the sun, we’ll feast with meat and a carrot each so we still can see,
a hearty belly worn by many bumble bees, that is the one for me.

Oh just a nib, oh, looks so fine, oh just a grip on the lifeless, lost and tender vine, oh place the moon in to the crimson cup of mine and call my mother… I’ll be gone for quite some time.

But as for you, you and the blue, you plod along, sing your song unto the wispy morning dew. A tender kiss exchanged in harmonic gratitude.

…let blossom bloom… and hum you’re own tune..

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