tripping through the light fantastic, where all the trees are made of plastic
rolling down from spansill hill, with pint in hand i never spill
crawling through the concrete ghettos, dodging chicks in sharp stilettos
cutting through all mindless games, burning up consumed by flames
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A lovely, cheeky, write about life and the living of it. We never know when we will be taken-so live it to the fullest. Very enjoyable. Kathleen
I am like this poem 10++++++++++