Life is a treacherous place to live; full of angst, regret, love, loss, sordid anger and lust, jealousy, and wandering minstrels. I shouldn't say that the latter are the most dangerous, but that would be a lie; a good minstrel contains all of those emotions. Minstrels make for the best lovers, and the worst break ups. There's just so much romantic potential there! But don't be fooled... don't be fooled. Every rose has its thorn, and every minstrel his secret. Who knows where his mandolin has been!? Down in the pasture with the pretty little maid? Minstrels are as deceptive as a planet with a zealous astronomer at the helm of a cloudy telescope. Channels made by intelligent life are discovered to be barren and lifeless -- promises made by minstrels are discovered to be lies of the little white variety.
Little white lies are like sperm. They impregnate a subject and begin to grow inside, and after about fourteen weeks abortions are illegal-- after that there's no turning back without a lot of heartbreak.
Those metaphors belong in a song.
Peace out.
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