I need to fly... Orange or blue or dark black sky. What is end for the lot... Is just the beginning of my trot. Don't think that in these vast oceans... It is land for which I long. I do not... Coz it is the skies, where I belong.
Trotting on, a regal symphony. Mighty yawn, teeth glowering ominously. That aberrated bark, are my Pug Marks!