Another day, out there on the seaside, maybe, even sailing

“The seaside beckons, each and every day, so getting going, even if I cannot for long stay” Gun Roswell

Another day, out there on the seaside, maybe, even sailing

When the internal clock, clearly indicates, it is that time, for all else, to stop
With all this on going hassle and utter buzz around me, of the daily kind of blocks
And then realising, what I really ought to be doing, and stop my cheeks chewing
I should be out there instead, by those inviting and always ever so enticing docks
And if possible, finding myself, a nice little dingy of a boat, that kind of sort
Then row, row, row myself, out towards there, to the mighty and open wide, unknown

As it happens, and I am all alone out there, in the coolest of blues stratosphere
What ever happens next, really do not give much of a care, as from now on from here
I just want to take my leave from it all, and at least, for a short while, disappear
Let myself some time to do absolutely nothing, but totally to the surround moment sink
Alas, do not fear, I will be back to annoy you all, before you can say with a swear:
“Now, why don’t ya, getta hell outa here, before this shit hits your hair!”

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