There’s a metabolism to this district like a red Phat Pharm jumpsuit an’ long, narrow plots of farmland called the common fields that used to provide sustenance to those calling st. louis home.

I’ve drawn oblique lines to arrive at this…

Cap it off – there’s oil bubbling up like there were public school chairs gathering dust in a warehouse…

I’ve stood at the top of the alleyway, holding weight – chevrons pushing back…

I’ve listened to her perfect tenor, a st. louis symphony, a cellist stage right – the back legs of her chair longer than the front, pitched forward for perfect pitch – a cellist stage right – she’s on my right, like assurance…

Ok – we’re sitting in a white box with the ability to let some psychology seep in… an’ we can all pitch forward in anticipation of perfect pitch while talking about transitions – picking up a seven ten split…

WING MAN TO WING LADY

AN’ I’LL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING X’S 100 AN’ I PROMISE TO KEEP MY PRESENT WINGSPAN OVER CITIES RUNIIN’ WITH THEY SCISSORS OUT – TWO IN THE COCKPIT FLYIN LOW, FAST AND SMART – ON YOUR LEFT LIKE ASSURANCE – ON MY RIGHT LIKE TIP, TIP – EASY LIKE CONFETTI, LUCKY AND TRUE…

SEVEN TEN SPLIT GONE CATHEDRAL