Every Reason Not To.

Nobody knows about growing old, so go groan and moan for man mourning his bones. Compromising time and finding mine while hearing the beat of the green grass weeds grow dizzy blown with clean gleaming bowls of gold. Hoofing, huffing, you're right about puffing, tough enough to keep that stuff in your pocket. Lock it away and shock me and play and then when you're reborn at the end of the day, no need to thank me, go ahead drop it. So start making sense, pulling wrists, such ironic offense that lyric spirits will hear and wonder dear if Hell is still red and Heaven is near.