Minutemen The Roar Of The Masses Could Be Farts
Soft and understanding eyes of the young
Moving with abandon atop the green lawns
Malleable as luck allows faking all the ties
Forced out in time
These expressions met
Improvised inventions
Lost in the way
Absolute the course
Which instinct betrays
Grinding in reversal
Outdo til done
Proper naked self
Solutions surround
In brightness be it real
Blinded and free
Pastel gems hit
Pearlesque in flaw
Spark of the instant
Challenging the time
View the observer's
Plagiarizing hands
