Yer Past, Present and Future Is A Trough And You Pally Are A Crest

There is a wave.

You are on that wave.

Wave to your wave.

This wave you’re on.

This wave on you.

 

Are you tumblin’, rumblin’ on yer wave?

Is yer wave tumble-rumblin’ on you?

Cause yer wave is moving at wave moving speed,

And that wave is trying to move you.

 

Is it? Can it? Can the invisible wave move you?

You don’t have to move to it,

You can stand there like a tree.

Yer wave wants you to be free.

To move, if you want to.

To stay put if you must.

Wave does it all at the drop of a hat.

Without this fuss and muss.

 

You splash when you want to and

dry up when it’s time,

Cause there ain’t extra provisions,

for anyone given to whining.

 

Your wave has yer back.

Got yer front and top sides too.

That wave will make you so washed up,

If you float it on a weak air tube.

Your wave wants you ashore.

Those sea legs belong to you.

The wave that beached you,

Cleaned yer teeth, and yer stomach’s different too.

 

You’re no longer you, you see.

You wave a brand new wave good bye.

 

Thank you, friend.

Barry out.

 

 

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