You see, it was one of those times when I wasn't sure if I was a flat iron or a bicycle. Don't ask me now, I wouldn't be able to tell you for certain, just, Hold On.

THIN WHITE DUCK.
Parting his hair like your mother's giraffe since 1909.

I should of fallen asleep a while ago, pity, pity. Ah well, dosn't really matter to me, I'm easy come easy go.
I'm a bohemian.

I fried up some tofu today. I also consumed it. It was good, except the plastic from the spatula kept on rubbing off... I killed it. A slow murder scene, involved a hand gun and a rather large cube of bolognea.
I still dont' know how to spell bolognea.
Perhaps since I have stopped eating things with brains, except for oranges, which I consume on a daily basis. That's why there's orange bits and peels all along my street to my bus stop now. I thought it was biodegradable. It takes it's time.

Time takes time, and flexes like a door (or maybe phenylalanine, I saw it was in the ingredients of stride gum), while I'm a rock and rolling bagel for you.

I kicked my frequent gum usage about a year ago, don't judge me. I just keep the old box in my pocket. Along with the ferry schedule and a chapstick made of wax collected from bee dwellings.

The duck likes his bagels.
Freddie says his passport, while his stamp collection says otherwise.

I sometimes hear things. See things. Feel things. Sence things.
   
   I sometimes see things.
Like a simple fool in the rain.