risking the current quite for perpetual peace

I am stretched thin and it has become customary. and now that to beautiful...
I delay that which is always here in favor of that which need not be.

thirteen days from the emotional count down clock!  I faint at the idea that peace is sitting in my pocket
All I must is to resume the path I was told of.
I now start the journey to the red string walls and look to see if we can find the right angles
maybe they are obtuse
a slap to the face and fall down and we run the right way to the right place and why can't you see these feet are in need of the dry times to resume?  my salt water is getting out of hand and vision hits the buck wall.

I'm quite sure I've buried the diamond in a wealth of rough by now but the excavation shall begin in thirteen days and we really don't know what we'll find so lets empty our mind.  The collective one has gotten to cluttered and at the waist of time.  We aspire hire and check for compass directions of separate needle spaces.  the pull is to strong for close calls so they will have to put their phones down and let the boy talk himself out of his paper bag.  risking the current quite for perpetual peace
refinement peeks around the corner abstracting the view of more urgent work
but this electric guitar hits the right frequency of times past and this windy wet shortens the count down.
what are numbers anyway?
the horn section is killing it! orange fog pulls at the keys from below so the feed back will have to weight.  (because we don't have words like that in our language.)
so we find the wrap up as the count gets smaller.
they are about to loose it and I'll have to take my self away when the words become to much



I'm not sure when the bridge will brake  but I think t....