A crash of thunder crossed my mind and I wondered, hey, am I blind, or..., and all the time the slowly slipping torment of the night would lick upon the windows of my mind, until the final curtain call, or some other call, a phone call, or a market stall, would slip me from my mental stream, and lift me up above a rainbow, diamorphic, crystaline, and in the window words were seen, that had me wondering, quietely wondering, are we there yet?
I crossed the 't', or crossed the stream, a rubicon is wasn't, but who is counting?
Who is counting?
Who is counting?
[url=http://myspace.com/orphicrecords]Click it && see[/url]
Not yet. I haven't even decided if I like it yet.
I tend to write little pen sketches first, then if I decide I like the piece, or at least don't detest the piece, then I might start trying to add some music to it.
Often at that point the words get 100% revised and end up bearing no resemblance to the original stream of thought.
I tend to write little pen sketches first, then if I decide I like the piece, or at least don't detest the piece, then I might start trying to add some music to it.
Often at that point the words get 100% revised and end up bearing no resemblance to the original stream of thought.
[url=http://myspace.com/orphicrecords]Click it && see[/url]
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