Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Front yards are interestingly dirty - plants cut in strange ways and dust being the essence of it all. Buildings cost us, and the soul's of people are a weight that cannot find their own balance. Darkness is often denied, but very difficult to be in denial about. Light has found us, and we don't know what to do with it. Fear crushes us, and we are lost for words. Success alludes us but finds all of our friends. Money solves everything and emptiness eats money. So paper-rock-weird cutting devise the whole darn thing. Play your banjo if you can, and love your parent while they plan a symphony for the dead dreams that are your forgotten creation. Runaway!! Drink the pure milk. Find the Stone and grab hold of the kindness of 2000 years ago. Be an Alien. Let your eyes grow to twice their size. Paint your skin green and yell form the roof tops that life is foreign. Declare the Glory - the weight of it all and all. He is coming. He will appear.