He across the ocean, slides his mechine. Over blue sheets,he travels deeper.
Nights and knots he was proud,
his thing was moving. Salty waters
washing and fiesty winds doing him
no favours of beauty, he forgot his mirrors.
By the time he reaches the rich lands,
He has gone so pale, he sees black.
It's time we lose his label and give
him his mirrors back, he'll be human again- no tags,no costs, no race.
©asande.k
A