by Enzo Tacadao
Sound’s twirling over my deaf ears,
How are you now?
Note, note, note, blah, blah, blah.
Start a revolution from this, now on, far from symmetry of false theoretical alignments.
Down at the highest point, from the chilling point to the boiling point.
Swerving like a cannibal-Hannibal momentous slash victorious actions.
Did I ever mention that stimulants make your soul fly high like a muscat in the horizontal sky?
Damn, that’s a grand opening of the sunshine featuring the moonshine.
Walking down, with every step means two steps rewind,
Recall, recall, re-call, repeat call.