Hot Chocolate and Burnt Feathers
our man you love to hate….
a wing and a prayer,
The rig is tensioned,
A carbon bullet in the empty air,
No one to help me,
To find my wind zones,
Torn, tied, and twisted,
Just Alinghi, headed for home.
dear. Julie Andrews was dancing on the top of a mountain and the Von
Trapp family sung their little hearts out. Cuckoo clocks chimed and
the Kiwis got a hot chocolate fondue poured right over their pointy
little heads. Such a shame and it’s all the fault of Valencia being
a shit place to hold the AC.