PLANet SOULution

What's the plan man? The day has slipped from my hand and no longer will I say "I can!"
No, I'm no longer a fan. Not of displeasure and not with heartache pouring through sweat glands. Drenched in remorse from this position that I stand, swarmed in harsh truths with this position I just can't stand. So what's the plan man? The day is no longer grand and the fiddle sounds with strum of a broken band. Reality has disband all dreams and future one night stands of pure pleasures and ecstasies of the unknown and simply play it by hand, or play it by ear, and in the capsule drips the sand, tick tocking away the day and no more "I can!" Because I cannot, I will not and you will not command. And that's my SOULution at hand, but still remains the question of the plan. Round and round my thoughts have ran, like a young pup chasing my tail, like a lost man, like a young child believing in fairy tales, Like tall tales in fantasy lands. But before this I made reality pop as I ripped it freehand. Making love spout, spirits grow and knowledge flow with no thoughts beforehand. I was the "Yes man!" The best cut and texture, the top shelf brand. And now, I'm not quite sure of the plan, not sure of the sudden future and on what stable ground it stands. But I'm not the man who builds a house on sand, I've got the actuality of and practicality of the sane man. Even he too sometimes jumps from the frying pan, yet into the fire and back again. Maybe I should blast off to my PLANet and plan it, and then maybe never come back to this disfigured land. In the mean time, I cannot withstand, withhold or supply the demands. This is my SOULution...No more "I can!"