Ember bare asp

There's a bucket of gin for ya if you do ember bare ass art. We read life potency with name lisps and candor: end over door fins, period, excelsior, mantra tantrum-- these are better n' splaying the vestigial shucks that you missed "it". But "B"'s and "Q"'s (mind them), they answer more than a ladle can spoon ye. Most of us don't.
Nah. Not even close.
But if it's viewed as total failure, there's a legion that grows up in you. Doesn't at first have a sensical noon, but shying away from the flames only acts as a blame retardant for later layers to scurry, scour, damper, temper, and nary hair singe nor ameliorate.
So you do then, what?
- tox
- purp
- songue
- hlup
- kay/rush
- jacob
- soart
- blim
And thereafter theraputor, rub the smelly on inner tines and chords; bands like this don't come every day! The told and stranglum figure tore, the f-hole pointed f-arch pinga fuchs, the dangle dangle dangle dangle, the await of summer or a gal named Thea, all and walls don't have a hope IF you're just hip to nope. Appendices in the No-generation have none peeks, non vert, unmile, and general lack. It's done on tweaky fingerdinks, leftover to bile and cry and never know a Dad. S'gotta lift, yeah?
Job one: embarass yourself well, smiling
Job two: Germany in the summer, maybe Mexico
Job three: an amazing network
Job four: draw incredible pictures
Job five: do work that betters the species, dammit

(eyes used for tooth support)