its your world, im just a squirrel, a bucktoofed nutcase cooling out with pigeons and shooting the breeze about bird feed but not neglecting that third need deep in the middle of that electrified fiddle buzzing and vibrating the tunes into grooves to shake the strings that sing of all things taking place in every being even if its been done be'for and been there and did that and so on and so on and so forth as it can only move in one direction, inside-out, a billion ring circus times eternity powered to the pi and mastered by the lord of the journey of those ringing circles rippling and growing out until they sigh, "oh i give UP," i surrender to the real me that dies out endlessly and outwardly into an empty sea full of all the potential there is to be whatever it wants to be, you see, we're the car not the driver, the pearls not the diver and dont forget about the mechanics that keep the show on the road running up my'el'age like the score in that brutal yet somehow still forgiving pinball machine smacking around the battling fireballbearings, banging'em into eachother and shooting off sparks called your sister and your brother all born only of your mother but still somehow the spitting image of dear old dad, even if just a tad as long as the EMFs are had so you can know if your sad or mad or happy or grumpy like pappy cause he didnt get enough spinnage to make his eye pop, his jaw drop, to make his neuron shop for a suitable mate to take out on that hot date in hopes to make a new connection... the next EMF... electromagnetic fate....