They say the last samurai still lives....they say if your going to that City be sure to wear some flowers in your hair,be sure to remember the summer of luv, if you were old enough to pull your shorts up during that era when summers seemed to linger longer than they seem today,then flowers must speak in volumes,as this crest of Sunday dies in the midnight hour.
Perhaps the caterpillars were then swayed in buttons fast forwarded to green fields melted by the amber sun...those days seem so long ago..the wrinkles on my hands as i play games with these keys echo in the music captured in Uriah Heep....however i can still masturbate which is the most important moment as Autumn bites into the dream bins floating through my crazy streets making up my philosophy.