The real ambiance is horndogesque which fits like patois'd patter from the ironic lips of the paragon o' peter. I so spent my middle years fixated on fulfillment and now at just the right moment of a lifetime, we have it. It's been filled and it's full - tell me, is that not glorious? I marked my spot on this space and put all my empties in the trash. Striving maturely channels the mo' moments gaining a modified crush on what is.

If what is evades understanding appearing cryptic and flimsy by inference, well that's the shits. Consider dislocation, distance and disconnection amping up the codependence but forcing adjustment to the attitude toward results which confirm that all this striving is mature. The existence of God within ferrets out the cacophony of the minds and fleeting time says it will all be OK in the end. The soak in the tub, the toke in shrub, the joke in the pub - these are the things that distract from the missing stroke in the rub.

Flashing old favorites is like using pix that were taken back when, but here's the difference - - - the up-to-the-minute references define N O W whereas that other reality when the words were originally written shows that being so much in love with her goes all the way back. Gabby Hayes was right when he sang Sorento.