Saturday, June 8, 2013

Gone Fishing


Gone Fishing

Gradually, gradually, gradually onward
Into the Valley of Strange we descend

Following our compass pointing South
We put our squared wheeled wreck in reverse

Can not find our destination
Not that anyone really cares

So far past the point of no return
Nothing matters anymore

At least the trip is not a dull one
As we careen out of control

Only then does the GPS proclaim
We are riding a road to nowhere

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