Turbulent times being about unmistakable rhymes of riddles and dimes all for the benefit of your minds times.
No easy task as you think back is all the time in the sun you bask all the while your emptying all your coffers into that emptying cup, don't ask.
Grinding away all day everyday grimy dusty hands in the muck in the thick of things all a game, life's play. I make my own luck.
They say every moment counts especially when time are memories rolling by like knights in mounts charging into the fray an instance counts.
Days pass and all the while nothing lasts even cannot chins fall into a mass a human mess all brought into that maddening crass. Always greener over grass.
No point other than passing time into that great abyss of self pity and dark dark mess with nowhere left other than a dirty mime.
