Adrenaline junkie –
Rosemary gloves, this mismatch extraordinaire – why can we not feel the other way, this haphazardly correct manner of speaking to sentimentally tweak and trail the deafening difference again? Just one more time, please, baby features… with all of this airborne pandemonium perched highfalutin within you, it is seriously begging to begin to getting itself to feeling unjustifiably real
 
Reclusive and homeward-bound, not a simple single sellout sound of the noised underground, overground and right back to immediate naturalism – here she still stands, preparatory manicured hands in deceptively disguised guise… marvelled at miraculous eyes, as blue as the West Amazonian skies which will continue to para-glide midst her behemothly estranged, rearranged, prearranged nature.
 
Stranger things, indeed… feeding by the bubbled white-lie of the reaching waves, oh my
 
Is this all of it an upside-down, waywardly righteous dream, or nightscape rather perhaps, we have to bend a listening ear til beginning again at getting ourselves to asking
It like it shall have to be…
 
Just let us know, please, baby features, which way you decided to go…
See, we’ve been quite justifiably waiting with fate for our favourite-best-friend and it is never-ending, nerve-ending – these nerve-rattling piranhas cross-fired near the panic-stricken reaches of our British brains
Say it with gusto, say it ain’t so… seems you executed your final work of art whilst it tore our hearts apart – down by the river we go, where no-one will know