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It starts with an uphill climb
She said ‘Lucky number – five’
I don’t need six senses – it happens way too often
Like seven’s face first dive – Kenny Lofton
Shake – shake – shake; the eight ball says
‘Only in Dreams’
After nine, chalk lines at the scene – it’s straight to the coffin
I should have put one of ten on it
It’s cool – pride needs to wake up – some humbling washing
Followed by a morning – a revival from all this turning and tossing
And then I’m rocking my favorite short sleeve shirt – T – Party – Boston
Never down – if you want a comeback – call Lance from Austin
If Standard is the Standard – I’m metric
Not a perfect depiction of old style themes and manners
I have my style dreams and if it’s this or that I say it’s hip or whack – I said it
Dressed with candor
You don’t need WikiLeaks to read about my valleys and peaks
My book’s open if you wish to creep – knock on my door – you can come in and meander
Any other description of my life
Drop the F and all you get are lies – a.k.a. slander
Watch the rhetoric
Be aware of the game of Life – can bite – be a little pathetic
I try to always see its aesthetic
Here and there is three feet in a yard
The two I have – got me walking far
Sixteen ounces in a pound
My twenty – eight – eight – zero, up then downer
Getting knocked around
Head up while I’m growing up – speaking clear and getting louder
A dog on the streets up against the ropes – I’m the prouder
Lost then found – reaching abode after seeing the atlas
It’s not flat – I like the curves – the rounder – like the globe I’m turning
4 quarts into a peck – a girl all over my neck
4 pecks later and we’re Adam & Eve’n
Biting the apple by the Bushel
Back stabbed on Ides and I’m Caesar
In the morning she leaving
All she left was a note – she doesn’t date guys from Cleveland
And my heart is bleeding
Born Three Fifteen – Eighty Five back in the game
From Ak -l-m-n-o- pride – I’m alive
And getting even – to get even
March down the block like I’m Trick – or – Treating
Speed two – no control for my cruise
I’m in a world that has no rhyme or reason
Yet a little like a book by Doc Seuss
More colorful than Fall – the Season
Letting it loose – writing not reading
I’m not following; I’m leading.

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