Cry ’bout a Nickel, Die ’bout a Dime

I sit all day and night on this two-legged stool.
I work, I ride, or I am in transition between the two and even that feels precious small.

There is nothing to talk about besides the tasks at hand.

Tomorrow morning I will be on my way back to Oak Mountain, which I will ride before I go to work. See, the two-legged stool.

It is stable as long as you are hopping.


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