Thursday, January 7, 2016

Remote Island

Remote island,
storms a vyin’
maybe that’s why no one’s flyin’

Kids don’t like this picture,
cuz there’s no eye spyin’

Island looking like a playful bed,
woke up next to each other,
now y’all playing tunes from the Grateful Dead.

Clouds overhead
increasing, like her moan over the bed.
Wait, wait, before you give yourself the cred,
read her diary, she’s been faking it and it’s all gone to your head.

Look for the signs,
like in these dark times,
we all go through a struggle,
but these clouds have nothing on Bynes and Leann Rimes.
Just fake it till you make it, then one day you’ll realize it all rhymes.


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