Who would have ever thought that dignity would be on my agenda? The armor is forged in the fire of hurt. I'm unable to remain quiet, keep a secret. I can manage, however, to avoid spilling everything as a matter of respect. Even now I find myself editing my own rambling. Discretion comes to me no more naturally than dignity.
So the dream fades in with me about to start my own open heart surgery. Handicapped with no medical training I'm more judicious than usual- if you can consider a guy performing his own open heart surgery judicious at all.
As I poke around the squishy, bright red valentine card organ, there doesn't seem to be much that I didn't expect to find. The whole dang thing is riddled with rock'n'roll and I don't want to dislodge any of that if I can avoid it. It's beating in 4/4 time and if it's affected by age you can't tell. Not really.
The love, though, has spread and it's in every nook and cranny. There's nothing I can do. I close 'er all up and pray for the best.
So much for dignity and discretion.
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