Wheresoe’er I turn my view,
All is strange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endless labour to be wrong;
Phrase that Time has flung away,
Uncouth words in disarray:
Trickt in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode and elegy and sonnet.
“Whose ways is strange when it’s time to survive? Pray on the plane, get off, laugh at God
Goddamn shame, but gave ’em the nod Game is the game, still slept like a log”