The landscape is painted with flurries of snow
which freeze in the winter that’s twenty below.
Excuses are lies that can’t wait to begin.
They’re planning to tell us there’s no way to win.
Their booming loud voices can frighten bright days
affecting our mood in so many bad ways.
Preventing ourselves from becoming morose
requires that excuses be made less verbose.
Ideas may be cowards or they may be brave.
The brave aren’t content to be stuck in a cave.
They want to explore all the corners of life.
They’re roaring like lions not squeaking like mice.
Some foolish excuses are starting to roar.
They fall down the canyon so hard to the floor.
They echo stupidity in the ravines,
and drown of self pity in ice water streams.
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