The Abbo road

Twisted lanes
of
long lie
be
there
where
none
goes.

Break
this
respect
of
life.

Live like
saffron
or
white
or
black.

Manu
wrote
some stories
sitting
on that
Island.

Does this road
come here.
Or
The state of Art
lays
low.

Chip and clank
show
the
state
of the
notion.

Home
back
the
Prodigal Son
the
burden
of
the
dead.