Experimental, impressionistic sub-paragraph tumblin' (think obstsalat)


Sea Tac controll tower

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
— Bob Dylan, Mr Tambourine Man


I’ve been rocked out, I can’t cool down
I’ve got a woman who still makes me crazy
With the shake of her nightgown
I’m still nervous, I ain’t been broken
I’m still churning and burning inside
And I can’t stop smokin’
I’m pissed off, pissed off, pissed off
It’s just the way I am
— Dead Moon, Poor Born