Don't give up on us, baby

Since I'm away from my own computer my words are colorless but maintain their odor. To brighten things up I conjured the flag of Chile. Give it up, "Viva, Chile!" The moon has reached its apex and instantly starts to decay or wane and that welcomes Valentines Day and the smell of fear it awakens in many americans, be they hairy immigrants or devout baptists or even Canadians for crying out loud because Saints invoke fear in this age like .... where is this going? It was supposed to be about love and all that makes me think of for the moment is a Simpsons clip show which isn't half bad but I strive for greater things now and meditate for warmth among the little creatures which is as selfless as I could come up with but don't give up on me just yet for I believe in love like a man loves a woman OR a fine Cuban cigar, it just doesn't matter because even Charlie Brown can earn a living in short pants, somewhere near Oakland I'm guessing.
Now I'm looking for work in the love industry and I've taken good care of my hands so I see a bright future ahead and plan to collect statues like Charlie Kane and then a president's niece who I could keep in a glass cage in my basement but I just don't have time to do that so most likely I'll learn to express inner beauty gained through external sufferings which inevitably come to most of us on a random chaos type system, you see, but love matters, Mr. Crawford. It matters. Butt love matters. That should cut the tension and not let things get too uptight around here so I hear "Wave to the Wind" and it's worse than I remembered but I have forgiveness in my heart and suffer fools like usual like I could do otherwise like, wow, and now I wave my way off to the wind... yeeechh. It just keeps going on.