Monday, July 5, 2010

Calling The Maker by Aimee Allen


Because I adore you like no other,
&&I don't know what'll be me 
if you weren't around either.


We dream at the top of our lungs, and sometimes these dreams/screams might just get lost in translation. Stop in your tracks, take a deep breath and clear your head. Reevaluate (aren't you Finance freaks are good at that?) why you're doing what you're doing, and adjust your reasons for those ambitions. Then take another deep breath (though I'd rather highly suggest a nice long drag of a cigarette) and get back on track. If all hope is lost, forget the risk and take the fall. So long as it's what you want, you know it'll be worth it all. You know that manna you were rambling on to me about at 5 in the am about? That elixir that gives wizards strength to do magic? :) You're my manna. You're my magic. So be like Albus Dumbledore, pull up your socks and be a man! He's my man :)

Just for the record, you could be unemployed, cellulite-y on the thighs, hairy on yo ass and smell like my cat's bum after she takes a clumpy dump, butt you'd still be the best option for any man's daughter. Just putting it out there.


As Def Poetry Jam sings it;
You have to believe in something or you're just a rythmless void.

Iloveyou, couz.