Elbow dabs sueding with the knee highs
Dressed too fly wiping clouds from the eyes,
Staying so fresh till death call it a revival on style
Police and the cars are caught in traffic
With Sting rolling in a lil red corvette
License plate doesn’t say fresh,
but the car still belongs to a Prince.
Join with the headband, ride with the carpool
Dive in deep, trippy smiles never mean wiles
Bubble hash, smoke a splash, the whole gangs getting waved
Everything need known educated under the sun
Tide clock signifies days out the mind,
Point breaks connected by horizon line
If life be a beach then enroll me on up
Bask in the ball of life, back to the old school
Shocked there is no clock?
Making new rules passing the days away
back ‘n forth between all worldly four corners
On the heels of royalty,
willed I was to follow the Dean of my dreams
Two legends, Carolina born, bred, then
Took a solo flight far from home
I decided before the final whistle blows
That I’ma set fire to life like a Franklin street night
After dook takes the L in the Dean Dome
Loose diet, budget appetite
Savoring every day has become the way
Dare to take a bite out of life
Because there’s too much to digest before death
I consider me a baker like Fetty,
But others may think me a crock
If you don’t like my pace, pace then pass,
And continue on the rat race
I don’t have space for a kettle or black pot
Bubbling with rabid thoughts
Tied to one square plot of ground?
Suit don’t need to be chainmail to weigh you down
Dropping from current see
May seem counter intuitive to sensibility
But take it from me, exchanging green bills
For emerald scenes gets you closer to nobility
To health, money, and love;
You’re bananas if you think I’m gunna be a monkey in the middle
Like A to zed, you’ll find me on either end
Best check out, sign off, and bounce about
Try not, to let social insecurity stop your well farings
Go out and fill the memory bank before it’s too late
People insist, “what’s a mere 180 minute hand ticks?”
I resist, that’s all that’s required to flip life’s dial
Crossing time zones, light years away from my abode
London to Bangkok the future is now
Clock says it’s half past Dip in Dots
Mind racing, you’d think I’m on the verge of space exploration
Feet keep the pacing, eyes on the verge of tears
Because finally after all these years
I’ve blasted into the great wide open
The bounds to which I can roam
Are located beyond the scope of what’s known
Explore the great outdoors or sit and cower?
Latter point’s moot when you learn what’s at stake
Remember: This world is yours for the making,
Not anyone’s for the taking
Lovin’ the blog. Keep rooling!
Sent from PBS’ iPad
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Many thanks! That’s the plan
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