Saturday, August 11, 2007

happy fucked-up insider trading

In the stocks and shares of the internal market of your head, my understanding is weak,

I'll blow candles out and breathe in the smoke,

Say random words, and push them into a series of sentences,

Completely meaningless, but contiguous nonetheless,

They resemble sense, and follow naturally, from one to the other,

Until they make a paragraph.

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