...before he is sickened

...and it 's the acquanting that makes us associates.

Like leaves to the ground.

The differences of proxies and broker bets....the money is lost, but the dealer has won.

And then the question of who makes the deals has begun.

But a travesty.

The fortunes of her majesty and his presidency

are the expense of your earnings and residency.

So what if we all disappear?

and reappear in diseases and the forgotten sheets

of treatises.

A tortured pass at rememberance

Forgetfulness is our semblance.

Eclectic ever afters and apocalyptic good byes.

blamed on Sino-senselessness

and Mohammedan eyes.

And what of the leaves on the branch of the tree?

Left to the breeze from which they were seized.

Teased by the idea of being a seed.

Never delved into the depths of this earth.

To stretch upon its roots and spawn a son from its birth,

or daughter

and what of the holy water?

that is splashed upon our heads

or the crops that are grown to keep us from getting the poor fed?

Ethanol is alcohol. Brewed like brandy.

Money is not for you, but for them it is handy.

Swim in the abysmal. Addicted to this riddle. Played to the boss, first and second fiddle

Earth worn and cancer stricken.

World...

please save my son

before he's sickened.