Hold my hand and skip lively into the future.
Hello grotesque, won't you be my love?
Rest your head upon my shoulder;
And we'll sink into the now.
Mirrored in our actions,
Let the moment make the caption;
So when the sunset falls into my lap,
I'll look into your eyes
As the wind pulls the words off my lips
And a whisper slips into your ears,
"Thank you."
PALPABLE POPE Ypyskypo Skwyrl, the Y'sas
High Priest, Temple of Appled Thought
Alchemist for Trades
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