Oh, what a stranger, looking dangerous.
 Still standing pretty, she is one of us.
 You say to make the kind of shapes to mold all your thoughts into:
 "A puddle of conditioned mud is spinning in front of you
 To pivot and direct into a different kind of cue before it's all withdrawn."
 I didn't ever take the chance to stand by the ringside
 For a middleman to refinance the comfort I can't afford.
 Uninterested, with no advance, I'll miss what I'm aiming toward.
 My ammunition's gone.