The can was just some bullshit paint acquired from the local shop around the bend. Northeast of the Wyndfield eStateZz. The squil'drun'n drums had been bangin' since the dawn of time. The jalopy was already in motion, and FartBarf's head was just bouncin' in place. The price for the can was the good ol' five finger discount. 

The jalopy exited Mockingbird. When the street name became Cornell the car portersyldes to the left, perfectly cut into the left hand lane. 

Flippin' a bitch at the next crosswalk, FartBarf parks his cruiser of beat2shit'ness parallel the curb.

He begins walkin' down Highland Park with a bag relaxed in it's strap thrown over FartBarf's shoulder. He begins writing on the first thing, just walking as the paint hits the wall.

red unread messages sent through anger through the smoke of the gun in this street right here right now. 

He just kept going? Takin' a porter side turn on the next corner

serene becomes the end product when you chase the riddle all the way down the drain of the durdy STz. streets named after saints forever remembered never die, they just change names 

The hell was this beatnik bombin' his streets for anyways?

LemonLime's lilli zone Ends when the wit is bent

The head of FartBarf twitches, one of the TRA members knowin his mission awaits at the end of the next crossway. His jalopy is green with a purple interior. The 2 pigs in the blanket park near the messages, just to cover the ass of the freshly promoted shittily dressed man.

 colourz of the entrypoints of consciousness open only when the prism reflects and refracts inwardlyy

Satisfied FartBarf decided to name his and MeeMawzz first invention the NY FatTax