A precious life, one to be revered, one to indulge your most superficial and deepest senses. Dance to that beat man. I see you cavortin’ down the avenue. Blast those speakers, and sound those lungs, for you, my friend, you will go that mile. Maybe you’ll run two. You know, that golden mile. That thing of beauty. That mile that takes your soul out of the depths and pampers your onlookers.
No, I can’t harness those walls anymore. They must come down. I’ll show pupils that twinkle when the blanket passes over, only to let them blind you with light when the sun’s rays pour upon me. Yeah, I’ll pull each block out, one by one. I’ll passively take a quarter of ‘em out. Then that loose bottom block right there, yeah I’ll rip it out and watch the entire wall crinkle, crunch, and topple.
Yeah, that precious life, that one that we need to revere, we all have it. That life where you can skip down the street; lets the general masses think your inner loon has arrived. Toss a few rays upon JC and rip the blocks from its alleys. I yearn to give you that reverence, but I can’t. I found it within myself. It may come and it may go, but let the will of the gods keep it in me. Tell them to allow it to me when I find those crevices that only a halo will brighten. Yeah, I’ll take this glory and I’ll take that halo and I’ll dance.
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