smoke

The Wardrobe I opened the wardrobe door There they hang, suits and trousers worn so long, looking pale copies of my figure This can't go on, in a fit of self-anger I gave my old clothes to the Salvation Army Too much textile is a burden In a suitable shop, I bought a pair of jeans and a matching jacket Feeling adventurous, I walked out looking For a mule, horses are too tall, began Exploring the landscape of dreams