[PRETTY PARROT]
I WROTE THIS WHILE I WAS ON THE HIGHWAY.
MUSIC...
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ON THIS ROAD WHICH FALLS AWAY BENEATH MY FEET DO I DEPART TO PARTS UNKNOWN.
FEAR RESIDES IN SOME FAR AWAY PLACE, A SORT OF JUNKYARD OF FORGOTTEN THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS.
I AM BUT FLOTSOM IN THE ZEPHER, DUST IN THE SUNLIGHT THAT RUNS FROM YOUR HAND AS YOU WAVE IT IN THE AIR.
SO MANY LIVES LITTER THIS ROAD THAT MELTS AWAY UNDER THE RUBBER OF THIS VEHICLE THAT CONVEYS THIS BEING.
FRICTION KINETICALLY TRANSFERED CREATING MOVEMENT OF MASS AND TRANSPORTATION.
BONES OF MY ANCESTORS IN THE ASPHALT OF THE ROAD, SPIRITS THAT HAVE FOUND A RESTING PLACE IN THE MITOCHODRIAL D.N.A. OF I.
FINGER ON THE TRIGGER OF BOUT TO BLOW THE FUCK UP, DREAMS OF UNIFICATION, A HUMAN REUNION.
PRETTY PARROT TRAPPED IN A CAGE BEGGING FOR A CRACKER TO EAT,
IT WOULD BE ADVISABLE THAT YOU OVERSTAND THE URGENCY OF THESE BROKEN VERSES THAT SOLIDLY LINE THESE PAGES, ON THIS SCREEN.
43 YEARS OF A DIFFERENT VIEW, ONE FORMED BY SWIMMING IN A PEOPLE STEW.
ONE GOD, ONE AIM, ONE DESTINY.
A WORLD THAT HAS BEEN TRAVERSED IN A QUEST FOR LOST KEYS.
ACROSS STORM TOSSED SEAS THAT RAGE IN REALMS WHERE CLOSED ATTITUDES AND SUPERIOR ILLUSIONS ABOUND.
FROM THE PROJECTS AND INTO THE ATMOSPHERE.
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