Seeking A New Day

I picked up the proverbial quill pen yesterday, and wrote a kindly letter to The Sikh Society, here in The Twin Cities.  I feel as if it was received and was given 6 thumbs up in a court of law.  Maybe they even know BUMBLE BEES a little better now.  If all you can say is that they stink, you are in for a blow.  They master telepathy AT BIRTH, and thus they have a star man quality their whole existence.  I am fond of these beings of light who fight the good fight with heinous telepathic revelry, even taking on sorority queen, literally and figuratively, for all industry.  They are so L.A. that they can hide in plain sight very easily.  They are used to dealing with the fragility of the male egos of both men and women, in especially the movie industry, and sometimes television.  Well now it will get mean and you will all feel as if Lucifer has rented a flat inside your heads.  Maybe Ed Sheeran will sing along.  He is head Troubadour.  That is a law enforcement key in seedy bars and clubs that I will not discuss here because it is the day of SIKH.  Happy Birthday, boys!  You have grown up so smashingly.  I remember when all you could do is convince me that I had a big butt, around Jeffery, in Indy.  It was so Andrew Dice Clay.  Now he's an Apprentice and you are all math degrees in derogatory terms.  Be strong and sing along.  Let Singh play the guitar, not the sitar.  HE is the master, and I allow him to bite at my ropes today, as we see the moon while we rise the sun.