I stand on the roadside everyday hoping that a dear hopeful will hear my tune.
Unfortunate circumstances have led me to this moment in time and my only friend is the notes coming from my lips. My poor, hacked, dry lips. I go to the pharmacy and ask for some lipbalm. THANK MOSES! They have a soothing tin of vaseline.
Day 3210 in the life of the Whistler and the balm is on and i feel smooth.
I smack my broken lips together just for a second then i open my mouth and once again begin my sad song. Literally and metaphorically of course as my life is also a sad song.
I have breathing problems due to my incessant whistles, my doctor is tortured and i now have asthma.
Oh this life, the life of a whistler.