I’ve not walked in your shoes, yet the cues from the stereo remind me of some in ‘The Industry’, not me. I made the choice to use my voice, and though I choose to be one to creatively meld with some things spelled into life, the ideas of the cutlery carry me to spoon with the ideas of above the line of a calling sign. I’m not balling or selling the drugs or having cash, yet the stash of pages find that the stages also are not where I want to share my flow. I know that I don’t yet make an income from the lyrics that plumb some of the currents of the thoughtstream, yet still think to live the dream.
A ream of text cannot share the next ways the consects are to blend some solid friend into others who follow a trend. I hollow out the boat and float an elephant or two with what’s sent to those without a crew. The hearts will speak true and share the darts with us too, even if I’m kind of wishing I didn’t smoke. I cannot tell you how to support yourself, though while up on the shelf a request for advice will find me splice the blessings of the case.
Think this through the ink like a trough. Some scoff and mock, yet ideas walk back into the core of the ish. Some act, some wish. I refract the light to share how the thoughts are put in the dish for the pup to drink. A link to the water will find the blue also to refer to the ideas of Rachel and how she thought meth was the answer. I don’t agree, though it does explain how the tears fell away from the rain and dredged up how this is pledged to remain. I tend, sometimes, to not make sense with the rhymes, and though the myth of the ship also shares the wares from the tips of the brain.
I don’t want to write too much tonight, so will keep the sights short and abort the mission of swishin’ some text into the context of the missions that find there are many true, even if you think the spoken words are all pre-lined.