Age Is Just a Number On a Ticket To the Unknown

riding out the storm on my last limb dragging along my feet in a half-swim looking at all the fish, throwing all back feeling out the weather where is my pulse at are these moods my only mode the merry maker staying cold questioning if there's even a soul or do those get very old? make a place i have to leave paint the place and acting free made a case to have to see so many people matching me i follow the little light i have its not dark but my eyes closed is being different really so bad? how far has the water really rose? up over finding air a labour come sober leave drunk an hour later pet the pegasus and cheer the satyr my fantasy leaves a bitter flavor