Welcome to the mosh pit, where you befriended a fir for a lack of plot twists in your misdemeanor. Tickled by a spare limb found in the hottest sand, flagging down a passing brick to build a wall around your catapult serves you well. It’s not telepathy that brings home the cake, you should know by now how volatile the bond between buddies gets. Like two hand claps in a round of applause go unnoticed to the bully’s beast shuffling its nest, your net worth is a goblet of yeast. Trickle down the nebula for good fortune, a cargo of dreams broken into frequently asked questions scribbled on the side of lost vessels. The knot formed down the coupon stack for only grip, volcanoes erupt to tip you off of the arrival of fall. Be safe, the nickel got your back.