Somethings are like red wine stains, they are difficult to remove with time get faint but will always last. You can add formulas to remove them. This is my formula!
Cleaning mess of some guys trade.
Right place wrong face.
Scrap heap imprint stupidity,
please give me some validity.
Closure of the grinding,
mini cans close my mind in.
Musical defibrillation.
No else to confined with.
Time has raced to evolve on.
Scared but wise, still I despise.
Now I’m here, thoughts, no care.
The grinding sparks have untied me.
Your age shows experience.
delivery, I can’t contain this.
Feeling the greater love,
enormous glow music buzz.
I look to crashing tides.
Screens project our minds.
Well trodden yet fresh,
just this time its mine.
Last night cleansed me.
The vocal lifeline echoes.
Your mess connecting to me
love rein on me
ALAN WHITFIELD 
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