sitting around frankfurt am maine in some pigeon hole blame demand blame work ethic blame labor shortage blame logistical collapse blame fuel prices blame culture blame a generation blame reincarnation
wreaking havoc on the yellow plastic bin liners trash sorting services ever shorting want cycles busy bipeds bringing bric a brac back and forth call it productivity assembling another arrangement out of the nothing new
for so long i was so good at not pulling out the hair but for some reason the fingers are back at it again what has changed what has returned where is the urge coming from what is the itch that these fingers are searching out conditions presenting symptoms
a glimpse into the life something i never see because i am not a part of that like to hold myself out but with the words i can imagine and it just wants me to pull myself ever further away i cut up these odes to the life lived to use as building bloqs in the spare time crafting together my private leviathan a cherry picked world that i would like to live in having turned away from what there is
thinking bout your face whilst drinking sunshine walking through words and rhyme no more crooning or swooning let melody take a backseat to rhythm and delivery now let us see if i have something to say
all that before and after is in this here and now there just aint no escaping something tells me
oh dear craigy i see where you went there and the next step is not a change in direction but the consequence of the line you took into the curve simply continuing trajectory you have to admit you put a lot of juice into it well before you even reached the tarmac
a little black box with a button i used to put them together myself for a price available through the guitar store on king street but the market got so good marshall sells a reissue
turn off the urge machine over stimulate to system shutdown let go of the wheel it does not do a damn thing anyway an illusion we call control
got held up in traffic on the way to the airport hurried through but missed the damn flight luckiest day ever
The past is gone and the future is not here, so all you have is this.
friends tell me with a smile i can go wherever i want but they do not see i am have been all this time makes me wonder if perhaps they do not follow their own advice
i have to yell because it is so loud in here this is the reason for the listening in here get out of my house
unleashed running wild over fields of canola tick does bite in but worries me not i can smell a hare over the next hill a shadow in reverse i am of the earth without return having never left always here
we dont lock doors in this house dont close doors dont have doors we took them all off and sold them down the road
a little confusion to get me out of here bringing something back had to be in on the first road supposing olivier had anything to do with the success of khartoum i am talking of artistic freedom to form and expose without exception without being taken seriously at all
sitting up in the pigeon house looking over the forest smiling because i am feeling lucky homing in on the right words to say to you make us happy
linthorpe road kitchen balcony is from where i leapt i have been falling ever since i hold onto what i think may soften the impact for as long as i can hold it but i am beginning to understand that this body will never meet the surface there are many more arrangements before contact
half past one in the morning on a country road on the z900 not long for the asphalt an emotionally charged moment seeking out self destruction at least life changing event re-enable this failure