Kunming Morning Rhyme:
It's raining and the Culture is gaining on my conscious, an umbrella to the head as I slide past the squeaky-braked electric bike sped, bong hits honey dude dancing in the bushes, the lao tai tai syndrome's got me in that feng diao mood, where it's like, why, how or zenme ke neng but yet it works, yi, er, san's not followed by a si, bu san bu si up in the tou, give me a smoke and drink so I don't have to know or think, or answer any questions cause I'm on the brink, like my poorly leveled porcelain sink, unable to perform the task at hand, someone's creating a whole new brand, of people kind of like give me give me I'm feeling feeble, to comprehend oh no here it is again, the WHY did I choose to lose the logical views for the Chinese version of the news, much ado among piles of poo, a whole country feeling the la duzi blues, but it's ok cause I got my crew who sits, drinks and contemplates the mutant goo, that enables us to embrace the fight or flight scenario, where we fight till we flight when our spirit reaches it's height or should I say low as it's always followed by the living in China plight, to reach down deep and extract our might, or invalidate our logical insight, for the " new contemplative internation society for benefit of two mankinds" this sh.t blows the mind.