Try Fry

You take more than you give. Take more than you give, I can’t take it, something awful, something awful!

Can’t do what you say, do what you say. Want to leave everyday, everyday. Never ever will you let me live, “I did it my way”. Yea, you give me, “The impossible dream”, then it up and stops, before it has a chance to start!

Can’t live everyday, this a way, this a way. Never been able to miss one day right, miss one day right, cause as all I have is you left, you left!

You take more than you give. Take more than you give, something awful, something awful, awful, awful, and I’m more than all full of it, like nothing else, like nothing else, despite what you think, what you think!

Miss, my little Missy Baby Lady, “You’re not my missing link, missing link!” Now I’m going to pull rink-of man-hood-rank on you, like never before, as I can’t be brought to slip any more, slip any more, something-awful.

“Yea, it’s called guts baby, so bye-bye, “Baby Lady”, baby-babe, beyond the fly, beyond the fly, on the fly, bye-bye, for life. For it may-be, non-ice shattering brain-busting good for a change!

Yea now, “Holy Cow, Miss Baby Lady, not even good for something awful, ice skates on or not, I can live out the impossible dream, in my dream cot skates on or not, not, not! More than through, through, through, “through and through”, skating on the clouds, yea ice-free-floor-less, floor-less”.

Yea, “It’s the no-free-falling, “Scotty no need to beam me up” ! Be-me, be-me, with-no-in-betweens, beaming-gleaming-dreaming, right on track, off-the-ice, and more than off of you, honest to God-Awful-Coo-Coo-Cool, sweeter than sweet, for keeps, keeps, keeps, more than keep you to sleep, without a peep, peep, peep, “No-God-Odd” awful, love squeezing-no squeaky-creaky-creepy-no freaky cold as ice, break the ice, truth, truth, truth”.

Dreaming time free, falling with nothing to hit but me well, me well. Oh yea, and I’m just a real softy aren’t I, aren’t I, as if I was, really softer than you, softer than you. Yea, on the other side of crazy some-how now that I left, and let it all out. “I know deep-down though, I’ll more than be back something awful, something awful” !

When you both were said to love each-other something awful, and were able to live it out going both ways, then you know love forgives something more than awfully well! Love with more than double softy bounce back give and take, with up and out in, and in and out, sit you down in such a deep all around cushion of love you can’t ever really get up, as it goes beyond this material world.

Oh woman soft as you are, with deep cushioned all around give live. I will break and come to more than shatter-scatter, if I stay in love with you in one spot to long. I open myself up to you now once again my “Miss Baby Lady”, of the ice love.

Scatter as I may, before I come to break in that spot of love your soft alone can give enough to take. Moist is your soul, and body-type built. Yes, yes, oh yes, soul built to take the cold longer without the shatter-scatter -scare so easy, as now I know it’s in you, and you have to do what you love.

Put me in your heart and soul, and lock up that side of me, and I will do the same different for you, so we can come to scatter right without the break that won’t suffice. Sacrifice shatter-scatter-scare, not my heart as yours, to love all that you do quite so well, but still am willing to have some give live cushioned soul of heart, to soft, even within myself from without and out-right different, as a man.

Ice just breaks and melts with no pieces to pick up. Children can’t marry to soon, as they will try to pick up these pieces before they disappear, and their hands may burn, least chaffin. Soft as she was as a child, and now may-be said by some to be ever so softer still, it’s only I and I alone who have come to see her over-all ability of taking softer than soft tougher than a man can!

The soft sweet young girl, but not yet ready to marry as character and experience is lacking and soft tough needs to come more to be from this, and her separate ways astray of mans so called best, so as to offer him more in marriage, or what has she soft more than tough enough wise!

The I of me, part of the spirit of all over, need’s more than the touch of what-ever from without, as forever first start’s from with-in. My heart melted she said! Just keep it inside, it was said. Children won’t come on their own to try and tear their loving dear, dear, hearts out, and the melting heart takes a whole lot longer to melt than burning ice. You can pick the heart up as well, but it’s different than those hot-cold burning pieces of ice.

What melts away doesn’t grow of seed like plant to return, but yet returns in and of it’s own way. The mold grows and lives on and you wish it could melt instead of your heart some-what.

In tune, like never before so you’d like to think, but ever-changing must live on and it’s nice to know we all can share to help it.

Best though you may never be said to be, by but you, if at all. You can’t see you of what I do. I can’t see me, of what you do. The do comes through still, yet still, oh my once child but now of girl-woman soft more than tough enough love, even beyond that which she alone knows but I have come to know in loving her yet still even today and forever yet still.

The skip into different steps and territories of new stories and the new out of now-where, so as to return you back to not being able to make sense of it all, for the better loving approach into talents best or love itself for your best of times, in the varieties of love offered you.

Let the arrow come to fly out of now-where, as I cast my line out that really hits the spot and the arrow comes as guided to drop not without the hand of God, and I’m living there, right there to come to know it, as the arrow has hit the water so as to prophetically call out beyond even the mouths of babes. The object to water to fish catches best prophetic cast and arrow fly, no drop, but guided beyond the guides of thy rod into God-Odd life. What a vacation, ha!

Triggered to go beyond yet still, and you of who to be said only alive for four years. Thouest now are of forty and four more. Only became alive when prophesy knocked at your door, but didn’t come alone, nor of man hands.

The arrow did fly first, and you respected the drop of its call, beyond just another drip of drop in the so called bucket. Now all “flocked-up” are you with something beyond priceless antique art, but not the hand of God, complete yet still, and more than lovin it!

Why must you weep, and where are you? Joy oh joy unspeakable but left alone to weep. Ears moving are God’s alone to go beyond the fly. Move your ears into mine too oh God-Odd, and more than fly into me.

Love thy door, but sometimes need more! Love thy knock, but sometimes must more than skip and shout! Go beyond my own blood, and that’s enough for you may-be, but not me!

Look up and find me no more! Use all your means, but love will still be, and some can look up right still, in yet a different way than as of you, not of me, nor them inside as of yet!