Popsicles popsicles popsicles
Tropical fiber opticals colors
changeing out my sanquine monicol.
Breathe in that breakfast smoke.
Green as an artichoke.
Young starving Artist
dabbing and tabing
doses and dreams dripping off my paint brush.
In God we trust.
Moving money deliver the dough
stack it like breadsticks.
Trunk full of linken logs.
Kindling trees lumbering jacks.
Steady moving like traffic.
Sunny delight after hours.
Sour patch kids.
We putting in them hours