off line, on line, lines drawn in sand, paper folded hats and boats, one in the same, if you can do one, the other is made just as easily, a perfect game, a sore ass, proud colors shine above perfect neighborhoods, a vision, too contrived, too here and now, too much to be good, it's just not right, or right for me, which might be left to others, unless i'm standing in a mirror, which means i can walk on walls, jacks, queens, and aces, deuces and the deadly black queen, those that you wish and had and dreamed, and days come and days go, sun rises and sun sets, and soon they will stretch on into infinity, or tomorrow, which ever comes first above and below, it just starts to work, or make sense, but it doesn't, and it does. so is such is what is life