Happy days,
Are all away,
Are all in gray,
Are all a shade,
A nuance made,
From black and white,
I tackle times,
With orange shapes.

Happy days,
Are all a way,
To lift your hope,
To live and cope,
To savor life,
When day and night,
Are all a waste,
Like holidays.

Happy days,
Happy times,
They define me,
They refine,
The hope I hold,
Inside my mind,
My memories,
That lend me peace.

Happy days,
Happy nights,
Happy for -
And after life,
Happy comes,
When there is sun,
Sometimes I run,
Mishaps away.

Happy days.

( I decided to write a song and I don't know what to say! x3
But I know what I will do and what I will do not today. )

Ey the computer is humming in the background
Ey in case you're wondering about that sound
Ey I've been away for two days this weekend
Ey it's been OK but I can't wait to sleep in

( chorus )

Ey the computer is really pretty loud now
Ey and today I'm not really a loudmouth
Ey I guess I could have turned it off a while then
But there's a game on and it's idlin, yeah!

( chorus )

( freestyle )

( beatbox )

Just one of those days, where my mind is a stray bullet, and I catch it in my face.

You can see it in my eyes, see it in their glaze. See that my mind is out there in space.

I can feel it in my toes, I feel it in my fingers, I feel it where I go, I feel it where I linger.

I feel it in this prose, I feel I'm being chased, I'm out of my mind, I'm out of MySpace, I'm out in my space.

Without a doubt: Spaced out.

I am who I am.
I stand where I stand.
On my land, on my island.
Stranded in sand.

Sand: it's the world.
It's the people, like grains: countless.
Count less. Live. Be sane. In shame.
Count countess dresses less you have something more important!

On your hands,
Walking through these lands.

Let there be music!

(more…)

Leave it out,
Let it go,
Let it rain,
Let it snow,
Let you hear me,
Let you know,
That I'm weary,
Takes its tolls,
This life does,
Yes it does,
Yet I trust,
In my betterment,
In a better rent,
That this letter sent,
Reaches far!
Like a reverent.

And if I repent? Nah! If I renovate my dwelling state:
Like a judge: make me a compelling case! Quell my rage! Shell my age! Given to me by many days just spent in waste. Sitting: Knitting? Nah! I wish I had the taste! I need a lift: watch me elevate.

I'm the elevator,
Terminator of all things past.

I'm the grand escaper,
Burning all walls in my path.

I'm the end narrator,
Telling you how all unfolds.

I'm the dead-end savior,
The one who burns a gory hole right through the wall of old! You'll be implored to call it glory hole. And through it I'll unload; emerge to newer lawns and carry on my call of mauling prose. Go through the hall of oaths.

The grass is always greener on the other side.
Other sights?
Other lives?
Other rights?
Other tries?
Other plights?
Other fights?

I don't think this war will ever stop, but I won't ever stop whether the war stops or never! Rot on you cadevers of this leveled lot. I'll make my own. I'll dig my tomb on a relished spot, beneath the stars and so-far-it's-like-forever dots. And there I'll lie when I revel not, no longer, stronger in spirit but body dead and docked, then call me all but a warmonger.

The king.

So how much longer till I conquer? I'd better jot... down some plans to change the world, win; sweep over this surf like a whirl, wind, and never stop, like a cold that calls for ever snot. Like a ghost ship foes see and toes slip... I'll make a better plot.