Goyatron

When once woke, The dreams vacate, Leaving only the desire, And will. The sense of lacking, Of... A void, Creates ambition. Food. Clothes. Shelter. Strippers. Coke. Money falling from the sky. They're all the same. One would think. Yes but no. What's life without the extras? Huh? What's food without flavor? What's a house that's not home? What's a shirt that didn't fit? What's too much baking soda? What are countetfeits worth? What's lusty musk when you can't touch? Meh. But I digress. Beer. Liquid humility. Now that's golden. Trusty and consistent. Love. Its a beautiful thing. Can happen more than once, But never the same twice. Beats. Ah, yes. The ever changing addiction, Refreshing and inspirational. Cooking. Modern and not. Expression standardized. Enough said. Words. Spoken and written. How day to day is structured, Simply complex. These are prerequisites, Guides and detours. A straight line can bore, And deviations explore. But once more, For every wave there's a shore. Every hit has a score. Every ceiling, a floor. Every feeling, a chord. Every need an accord. So shoot for the stars, Just know they fire back. Word.