Most of us like to blame it on the mental space.

Tuesday is this Saturday of the same week.

Beep 5 times.

A deck of cards, a roll at dice, divided by a bag of spice.

No service on the edge of distinction.

The extinction is right in front of your eyes.

The hard earned money  we work for go back to the same guys.

Meanwhile day-after-day the world feels the pain of a million skies.

Foretold by the reoccurring painter of the 3 sunsets.

Tarzan, surfer of the jungle habitat.

Made her put a blade in her purse thinkin’ she walked with a curse.

No need for hands to peel the orange juice, when the flesh inside you has no use.

Bell rings at 18:00.

What’s the enemy of time you say?

Well that depends on where you’re taking time from.


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