%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Me and the love for dancing to sound.... |
| [Introduction] I just simply like to go, with the unknown multi-colored energy flow.
Believe me that I must glow, got sticks on me from head-to-toe. You just do not know, nor will you ever with a skull as thick as leather. I am so light, almost in flight with my nimble feet, just like a feather. I will dance in and out of your mind’s door, into the street for more. I am squashing your pride, located at your core; melt like a camp-fire smore. These sounds keep on moving my feet, a treat bouncing to every beat. I slide like there is a puddle of water under my seat. I am nothing other than elite, my skills you will not meet. I took you on this joy-ride, energized bunny as I freely glide. Tick-tocking side to side, boats float in on the rip-tide. You may try but cannot stop me, nor successfully top me. Started with losing time and myself, only serene sounds can unlock me. Flowing so fluently that I soar on this floor, toes become sore. I will steadily dance until my skin becomes tore, forcing me to dance no more. Keep poppin’ with those locks, every second matters on these clocks. Random sounds dance me out of my cotton-made socks. I do not forget to switch up my style when the beat drops. Taking you back to the old-school, it all stops when your brain pops. I call this trip-hoppin’, my body is a rockin’, and there is no stopin’. Your dance reminds me of a fish on dry land, just flip-flopin’. I am going to “Mr. Clean” you off this floor, just mopin’. Won’t stop, can’t stop movin’ to this wonderful groove. I grind down on my teeth, constantly on the move but not out to prove. White Jamaican is a uniquely original individual, who intrigues most, yet mysteriously; a legend. I am very rare, much like an epic battle weapon, yet I am still in my sheath. The floor under me is rippin’ where my shoe soles are grippin’. Minds fast-forwarding to rewind, I am surely flippin’, but I cannot stop trippin’. Liquid-wave in this lovely rave, when I am dead I will be dancing in my grave. I am eye-crazed, looking blazed and in a dizzy daze, running through this foggy maze of haze. Little kids could not take away my tracers with magic-markers and erasers. Colors always flow from the heart, and my dance is multi-colored mystical art. |
This item is currently blank.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
