Daylight Savings Time Ends November 5th 2023 Means

Daylight Savings Time Ends – November 5th 2023 means... discombobulated, harried, and lobotomized state of body, mind, and spirit triage. Onset of dark shadows signalling edge of night occurs earlier as the world turns beckoning, hinting, robbing passage regarding days of our lives, where the young and the restless, plus the bold and the beautiful exhibit variations on a theme titled one life to live. Within my figurative neck of woods boughs bend forming roods, where all across the United States except Arizona and Hawaii troubadoors festooned nsync with generational matriarchs wearing hoods remaining incognito as identity guard of their broods mare uncannily decked, and tricked out as an old man, usually in a white robe, having a white beard, and carrying a scythe signify turning the clock one hour at 2:00 AM eastern standard time, hence birthing following reasonable ridiculous rhyme. Hour hands clock get set back sixty minutes of Autumn round about this same of month every year, what a bum er, and inconvenient truth diverged from this chum purposelessly manipulating a hold over, sans yesteryear doth drum a sensation of jet lag (with earth in the balance) as if watching Monty Python's flying circus within time machine at warp speed from this station, where bumpy ride invariably finds me feeling a bit ticked off and glum and in no mood to rhyme, nor be leer re: cull juiced barely tantamount to gather scattered wits sin tide, and express mood as hoe hum fortunate, this chronological seismic shift nada wide, ah assume, nevertheless mein kampf cerebral hemispheric plate tectonics comb pluck hated off jangling black keys helplessly boom fancifully drifting and boring into quick ribald sand trap doom ming an inducement for emergency convoy, when pitched from sea to figurative shining seven sea – gram ma mother earth glum, where live yik yak viewed thru Tik Tok wired vanguard trulia tried optimism to hum nevertheless, swallowed (Old Rotten Gotham) sliding down into behavioral sink analogous to cremated ashes of late mother once boxed, but long since scattered into eternity like talcum powder went – me mum bling bloviation, once worth matchless peerage, now pitched numb lee into morass of temporary confusion, where existence not peachy keen plumb line delineating circadian rhythm offset, when athwart Jane Pilots' rum man strait ting and bickering with Lilliputians slum bring within islets of langerhans defiantly, haughtily and laughably thumb ming nose, where body, mind & soul Weeknd viz a bully did cower, hence (principal at Methacton Junior High School) Mister Clock, who got hijacked 3600 seconds per hour experienced head, thorax and abdomen diminishing in power wrought indistinguishable Whitsuntide as sour grapes of wrath imposing ill fitting sea legs, which folded like a faulty tower crumbling skeletal carapace, resoundingly surrendered, and back slid vis a vis space/time continuum did devour. Black hole event horizon indeed kept bottled up cosmic genie good Lord and Taylor (swift) lock step as das joint mill on the floss hoard sucker punched the band Reo SpeedWagon of father time, whose riffs a silent chord nsync with atomic fractional second bored quirky shenanigans toying with chronometers counter point of view shifted to oppose this minute accord.