Sei Arrivato In Fondo

The bottom is the pits,

But the upshots are the views.

Starry-eyed proverbial pithiness,

Roaming through the news.

I hold true what is abused,

From solemn moments to sputtering truths…

Like an eclipsing spoken word,

I’m barreling towards the moon.

The out is the fits,

And the upshot a fiery ruse.

Barking pride has been oh so wasteful,

Pickling in the news.

Hold true for I am forever amused,

From solemn moments to sputtering truths…

Like an eclipsing spoken word,

I’m barreling towards the moon.

Like an eclipsing spoken word…

I’m barreling towards the moon.