Toast To Probability
To the love of time
Which never reach it's prime
Moving forward and backward
More in a dazzling zig-zag inward
To the purest expectation
With little or no adaptation
Filming enjoyment without bill
More like free breezes on hill
To the lust of the tongue
Which roast for the young
But has forgotten that hanger
Is hotter than mere real hunger
To the eyes steering at the moon
With less energy flying out soon
May be it would catch up with it
Or miss it-- a more shameful hit
To the fear of trial
That energizes denial
And makes sure the absence
Is reckoned seeing its affluence
To the upcoming regret
What daily report beset
Telling the story of sorry
Maybe that won't drive my lorry
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