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


abstract city light lines

He did ten years in Attica, reading Nietzsche and Wilhelm Reich
They threw him in the hole one time for tryin’ to stop a strike.
His closest friends were black men ‘cause they seemed to understand
What it’s like to be in society with a shackle on your hand.
— Bob Dylan, Joey


We’ll sing this song all night long,
Sing it to my baby from midnight on.
She’ll sing it to you when I’m dead and gone,
Ain’t a-gonna grieve no more.
— Bob Dylan, Ain’t A-Gonna Grieve