> break our necks
>up to our necks
Eek, that word choice, Anon.
Your attempts at poetry are lame.
Aim for substance, not rhyme.
Forced rhythm reveals a poet
who is not and doesn't know it.
Every time.
My son as a toddler would talk about his life as an angel. He would say, "when I was in my angel body…"
I always knew bigfoot was real.