1900
1
“Stray steady yawl” It’s a slave who wants his life equal to the resolutions alive with the planet,
Most commonly, the hustle and bustle of unrobeing the panic,
In the night, he bristles the pops on the river mainstream,
Something old of the natives when the horses were riding,
Should we let him have our most serious point of view,
Getting drunk, incapacitated, lumpy and cute,
Vanity is meaningless unless there is something to do,
Behind the mirrors of puzzling I feel the king’s truth,
Parking this narrow promise, the arc mostly thick, as a result the low browse of brown,
Finally reaching ceilings, the bump and grind of upside down.
