I play cards every day, but, now, no one deals.
I know a man who does his job well,
The exchange is down, the country’s in trouble.
The grass is not green, the crank cut it down.
I know a chick, we had a ball,
She hit me like smack, and left me all out.
(probably written in the dark listening to Baroque music stoned on marijuana)
Telemann: weaves a melody that plays a dance for silvery notes as they bounce across the page.
Vivaldi: the sound of needles turned to icicles being broken off a railing fence by butterflies playing in a field of splendor.
Corelli: the allegro tearing away the somber melancholy of the opening adagio; golden notes playing a game of tag in a parabolic valley carved out of the world of music
Vivaldi: a lark singing in a mallorn tree growing in the universe of silence.
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