In the stillness of the ambrosial springtime breeze, which is but a southern hemisphere visual ease, to counter attack the totalitarian vegetable defence of japanese translation, dirt track soul piano all night one night stands, with a hail mary pass and a goose step running backwards to go forwards, scoring in the corner, sold down the river by the capital wind that pushes everything to the wrong of right or the left of political incorrectness, caught by the rolling plunder of the Indian supermarket three for two deal haze, getting more and more physically lost on those one foot in front of me oh shit what do I do now crazy days, playing for replacement, thinking about a lie, living somewhere either side of yesterday and tomorrow, wanting just to be a lonely toilet inspector. Tell me what you see!!!! Am I invisible to those that claim they know me best? Can you tell that what I leave out, I do on purpose to see if you really can see me? Is it something I would recognize? If not then either you see me exactly, not at all or you just see who you are realizing you may very well be. Although I’m always in between things that seemingly only go half way. Is it really anyone’s fault when I may very well be an enigma in and of myself? I think not.