I saw her last on the shores of Aberdine, no longer, she is never, her soul lost on the sandy beach, and bones decay inside, the ships sail by, and death covers her skull as if she never was.

Nothings perfect, not the critic flapping his lips, claiming he knows the flavor of everything, just another critic, is like another fool or idiot born every second, so fly me away, give me a big airplane, take me to a tropical place, I got to remove my shoes and stop eating sandwiches with bad meat you know, life is gotta be good, and me of course.

I have been at war for a while.