Intro

It begins with an ending. No more spending time with 109 fine-tuning tunes. My mind reverts to a deserted dune. Soon, I’ll go buggy using my hand in the sand as my only paper, I’m emery board as memories stored taper and Skuff this lonely man like ugly skyscrapers raping “Little Fluffy White Clouds … ” Was it smoke? Am I allowed to evoke the Groove to soothe this intrusive course? The force of Injanuatea isn’t new to me So I Axe this lucid yet lacking nuisance I call lunacy. You’re soon to see, I won’t sink low like Ninko’s homeland’s economy. My Dome spans the Sky like a pop-fly caught-by a record exec’s world-wide web. Cords tied round their necks their tide ebbs, That’s why my Class sports an “S” on it’s chest, To leave the best smitten. Listen, believe, a new Tome May be written.