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


On the train you get smaller, as you get farther away
The roar covers everything you wanted to say
Was that a raindrop or a tear in your eye?
Were you drying your nails or waving goodbye?
— Tom Waits, 2:19

Drop of Crystal

I’ve spoken to God on the mountain
And I’ve swam in the Irish sea
I ate fire and drank from the Ganges
And I’ll beg there for mercy for me
— Tom Waits, Lucinda

Your Existence Gives Me Hope