Snuggled and surreptitiously left on repetitive repeat again. Seems he has seemingly seen too many things to ever get to set his genius lyricist’s heart furthermore apart. Have a most untrampled part to play, please… and passionately manage at instrumentally rhyming the reconfigured time, and, all awhile, mightily managing to make it make mammoth kinds of upside-down, divisively succinct and upsetting sense.
‘Cold Radar, High Praise’ – for spoken word recording with Alyssa Swan Caldwell(Virginia)
Up until. She started to feel something. As though. Eerily magnificent and the very exact same. Sane memories as both you and me. Bathe both breathe. Harsher than they can ever be anticipated to actively re-imagine. In another unpierced person’s underqualified eyes.
Oh, my. ..
A plaster-casting to take her right the way all of the ways back. To bathe both beneficially belong. With someone. Somewhere. Somehow. Yet again, so soon as when she took all of her quicksand painkillers, stole his dangling dreams to split the delicious difference back between them. Two eagle-eyed individuals who shall lastingly remember, all awhile, that it is decidedly plausible to be deafeningly both agonisingly diffident!! To the split difference within. All of We. .. … go, go, please motherfucking mentally go The distance. .. … …. …..
With our tails bolstered beautifully between our tongue-tied legs again – ‘cos there are no real pennies, no nothing anymore… just… just… ‘justs’
And we must, must, MUST remember it all, the faster