No more smartass, distasteful, unappealing comments that are so easy to say with my big mouth.
No more t-ray stings.
No more deep metaphors or other deep thoughts that come without the power to dream.
Godd, No more poetry or disrespect from this difficult old soul.
No more waxing and Wayneing.
No more clashes in the 'knight.
No more KP dootie.
No more stories or any form of invested works requiring time, thought and/or heart.
And, no more lady gossip or chance of turning to the dark side, to boot.
Yes, one day, there may be no more of this or me left. There will be no getting Lucky' for this chap. No more questions from this 'life. No cir'. Just an empty 'shell that got tired of trying. You'll 'ce. Just another daze work with stabbing back pains down the crapper. Wouldn't that be a shame. And, yet, I keep dreaming. Isn't that DMB of me?
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