A boat to float

Am I nuts?
Do I need a shrink to show me the brink?
I think a shrink would find a brink
We all have a chink, a krink, a link

To some insanity, to life’s inanity
That shrink can just can it, he
Don’t know me, dammit, he
He lives on his planet, he

Don’t know the plan
Or what I can

No questions! - just talk
Walk, stalk, balk, gawk
Take a ride around the blawk
Be a hawk

Or an auk - fly
Point your snoot
Find a route
Plant a root

Don’t forget you die

Don’t forget to live
Relive, be live, belie, believe, relieve
Grieve, leave, cleave, feel the fever

Be a believer
It’s a reliever
For a weaver
Of tales

Whales, Thales, Nine Inch Nails
We all have a trail
Something to bewail
Without fail

The thing about it is, we just do it

Screw it

=D> Tons of rhyme; not much rhythm but then life can be pretty bumpy. I love this

=D>

Deb - you are mistaken about the rhythm - it’s meant to be sung to the melody of The Star-Spangled Banner.

Try it. You’ll see.

I tried it; couldn’t match the words to the music; but I’m Canadian eh. The only time I hear the SSB is at the beginning of an occasional hockey game. Maybe you should add one of those bouncing balls. :smiley: Until you do I will have to stick with my “bumpy ride” impression. The presentation has a chaotic appearance which is also appropriate but there is no missing an inate urge to impose some order, to recall the tangled mess of another thread. :slight_smile:

I know you’re canadian. It was a trick question.

You can be so cruel faust. I tried everything. I was doubting I had a sense of rhythm. Thanks for bringing be back from the brink. :slight_smile:

I am duly ashamed.

Canadians can be so trusting.

Switch flickers
Wick dippers
All the same?
Only in fame?

All a game
Who’s to blame
There’s no name
All the same

Wind riders
Dust riders

faust- first time here. I see you’re provoking our neighbors in the attic. Remember, they have special horses … erm, special forces on horses.

Hi sandy - I might have known you would track me down here. I think you sense that I am trying to launch a career as perhaps the only middle-aged white rapper. I was thinking of calling myself The Monk of Funk.

Perhaps we should battle - we might get a whole record done.

I’ll have my people call your people.

I just have to find my people.

Okay, I don’t have any people.

Will be in touch about upcoming tour.

“Upcoming” being a somewhat flexible term.

“Tour” being equally flexible.

Peace out.

Monk with Funk. Catchy.

I was thinking ‘Down With The Grain Brain’ but it’s just not noun enough; and it’s too long.

I am not sure I could last in a battle as I get my stuff from middle income Marshal Mathers (don’t know if I spelled the name right) wannabe hip hoppers. Radio can only offer so much. Besides, I just wanted to say wick dippers. Just has a Freudian feel to it.

Well, I’m sure we’ll flex something out.