slow.

Call me stupid, call me slow.

But only after my first chicken did I get the whole point
Of what rice meant with closer.

For those of you who think I’m doing code-talk:
Forget what you think.

What I am writing is what I do mean. Why else should I try to rhyme?

I sung the girl from Ipanema (almost) all my ride back home tonight
And when I thought I was getting bored
I switched with my short breath to singing closer
And so it dawned so clearly on me
That what he meant was that shorter story
Those shorter stories
Those breathless breeze
That we all have tried so hard to forget.

Ah.

* ah * * ah * * ah * si évident …

Obviously, how can people think differently. It was simply what those really meant to be.

And call me stupid, call me slow.

But I am so glad that I’m over that.

 
You? No, this doesn’t mean you.
 

Altogether now:

Protein. Brain cells. That’s why you need chicken. Fat. Or was this that szechuan midnite
that I just had?

How enlightening.

I think it is more that
Something is changing
And my focus is shifting
I can see all now back in context
And hm. That’s quite nice.