Moody Blues

This is what I want to be if I am reborn. Yeah, a generously horned bovine. And God help the traffic if I have a highway accessible. Because I am going to park my fat arse right in the middle of it. And think about trippy colours. And idly chew on dandelions. And moo the natural scale. And turn a deaf ear to that annoying lady on that funny thing with tiny wheels; who actually wants to move. Can you believe it? Move. Cuckoo lady. I want to bask in the glorious sun amidst chaos, shrill horns and rising tempers. And perfect my regurgitating on – tarmac, my favourite place in this whole wide world. These annoying humans and their incessant hurry. What’s with that huh?! Pfft. It must be their blood-brain barrier. Never sending any of the good stuff home. Where it makes you take life one lazy plopped up afternoon at a time. Wasted meat eating bastards with no regard for the fine things in life. You say the grass is green elsewhere? You can shove that, a cheesecake and a genuine leather wallet up; I’ll keep my busy road. Any day. And ponder over life’s mysteries. I will make one amend to the way things are, though. I am going to make the official cow sound, “Won’t Moove”

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2 Responses to “Moody Blues”

  1. Titus Moras Says:

    The narration is really mooving.

  2. You are back in business dude! Keep ’em coming

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