there's stumbling blocks on ever corner some kind of obstacle or fix to get into if one choose to enter the sticky wicket spot of hopeless uncertainty a closed case of quandary and a heavy caseload of indecent unbefitting slippery slopes down the hatch into a broken bottleneck rattrap inbivilant society it's not far out of reach or out of touch it's right up the street one can get there on feet but to every throe there's a catch under the mat there's a key to open the latch and set one free listen carefully there's a bend in the pass called a culdesac where one can turn around and go back to the point one started to venture in
The Immortal Wize
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Dead End Street
CATEGORY
life
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