Ursula, the Pink Hitch-hiking Ukulele from Barcelona

You're so solemn and devout and divine, you spit the spout through the Earth and out to a better time. I sit on the edge of the land where I was born, dangling my toes. I cannot get closer to death before I reach my close. Now is finally the time to do the math and figure out why I was born. A casual observer of life from afar, to get a better view I travel till I'm lost inside. Aida & Berta & Ursula say thank you for the ride.

At a 3rd hand store on a white steel shelf I lay. I am without family. I have always gone to and to... I am not from. My forward is the kept of the unknown buyer. They, A & B, have being one as now. I was played gently then meanfully. The meanness I was made to break through, and crisis a want to begin.

All the black straight hair I am confused. Laughing young ladies to be sure are perfecting las solas after grunge washes the mediocrity y technofobia into besos eternos.

Life.

Weirda. Come sweely cool child raising the Sun.

I have a happy box. My coat is shiny, raw, and beautiful like a healthy black leopard's tongue.

"How can you hang with our reasonable speeds?"

The music that I tell is a mystery to me.