WONDER MAN

Up on the quasar, down on the spiral, flipping frog fingers through the dust of an infinite times. We saddled up once more, eager for breakfast. When the moon shows it's hand it gets cut off. Old man out. Stumbling round the cubicles into the fires of icy dilemma an onward towards a warm coolness in your arms. Maybe we could sell the wood, chip in the teeth like a mother. Don't you say should. Could could curl clouds correctly. We want a garden, don't we? I'm at the corner of Nothing To Lose and Everything To Gain But Might Lose Anyway, waiting on a decision I could be making. Time to fly away butt witch awaits? One way I have to fly faster and get ahead of the coast. Thank you, Lord for the fast track. My first word I made up was "gription". You know what it means and you need it on your shoes. It's 2011. Am I right people? Let's have a big round of apple sauce!