Cowards die many times before their death,
scavenging on lands,
that were given to them
by either a wise man
or a big bang.
Liars lie many times before their death,
sinning in glass houses
where everything is seen,
by either the naked
or the blind eye.
Men walk the meadows
in search of treasure,
as pirates would the sea.
Challenging the lifeless,
to a battle of wits and braun.
And women, fertile and plentiful-
pay the tab the waiter leaves,
as the noble men
sit in the cigar room
discussing politics.
Et tu, Brute?
Yes.
i like it.
-matt
-matt
i wouldn’t mind being jack kerouac or hunter thompson. usually my inner leg-breaker takes precedence, but yeah. the inner hippie is there too. peace love and dope, sister.
-matt
woot
yeahyeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
rockon