on day it's fishing

one day it's fishing, it is the form , I do not know why , what's happening , there is nothing obvious , everything is confused, the time is ready, I 'm sure me , I have to do more things, that from the outset , in every minute there are sixty seconds , never too much, just enough to leave a trace , something subtle, but insofar as everything is profitable , that is wonderful, it is a passage in the green valley , when all goes well, the body does not suffer, that the mind is still able to see what's out there about five o'clock one passes close a place called the lost world, we look to see and be seen rabbits blue , green chairs, and the old way of making love, when humans had not yet the electricity and should illuminate the candle, it blackened ceilings and as at the time there was no paint had to be destroyed home after twenty years to build another whole person, that is why it is now so friendly with young people, we hope that one day they will become adults , it is not easy, but the path is well marked , rewards work, simple to double for agreement for the lies, the truth, to grow, to not play children's games, see love, when it happens it's the forbidden fruit , but quickly is the confidence that surprises all world, how can we get there, it is a special moment happens just in front in the blue house , traceable to a goal in the sand until the sea will erase everything but I remember the old way that achieves the strong, then I turn right and I found a way to cross the river by building a raft with boards that I found in the green grass , this is a good way to think possible, since birdsong can get high