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2005-04-22 - shadylady
that girl's a "flayah" (a female playah) so you better play it cool as King Kamaya you best be chillin' like Bobby Dylan or a million dollar man like Steve McMillan or whoever that actor was that played the part of a man who wouldn't have a broken heart but his dreams all ever seemed to fall apart smokin and hard-spoken like Bogart on boulevards of break and enter dreams pulled apart and ripping at the seams an angel of the night with lunar beams reflective of the coefficient streams which rise in tides like clockwork in their sway as dusk turns into night and dawn to day it's gradual and consistent trilaterally composed and drag-resistant it's synchronized, in line, and somehow distant but closer than the fields, and as persistant, binding molecules of matter to existence... and sense-ruled entities which form the nations a world of energies and motivations some random, some planned `em, some operate in tandem but every act, like ripples in a pond, creates impact, reverberates beyond, into the liquid-likeness and upon this shared environmental trek we're on as flowingly we vibe into the dawn of what hereafter voilitions spawn so check this word of wisdom when I say you better understand the game you play the source of winds which guide you on your way conformances to rules you can't obey if you would overcome with faith and break the mold of guilt-manipulators who controlled with a dated bill-of-goods which grandma sold to naiive and superstitious minds they told of a flock that strayed away from their own fold... and it all just stays the same and gets so old another lifeless statue, stark and bold against the atmosphere within the hold of the planetary confines where she lives that lady with the lifelines that she gives as object lessons to the ones who "get it" (the others all get played because they let it)
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