Around the mind the scene is full of that sweet stuff, she gets him high and by the time he’s found grace its replaced by concealment. The signature of her colourful lace lies lifelessly and its a timeless tale. The stale head of a long weekends forgotten disgrace, this place learns your name and plays its games all day long. We’re the wrong side of the pond for most of the right reasons, they’re both dirtier than the last. Admittance alas, the grass is perfectly green in the conservative ghetto. Getting away with abolishing democracy whilst drinking our Great British brew. A view of volatile hypocrisy, the hotlines got plenty of seats awaiting. Without the faintest of markings the arching connection between him and you is that when your heart beats, his does not. The grave robbers manual in his back pocket and ignoring the truth about our faith. He steps forward. In Cazi’s usual oafish tone he slowly announced.
“One wonders. Why my people say bad things about me? Am I not doing my best. I accepted responsibilities I never dreamed I would have. I am changing lives. Can you expect me to make the right decision? Everyone, follows their own path. I am a mere option picker, So I say. Fido?”