by grimbeau



donned wrong slippers two lefts no right (man cannot compete with the gods) shines not the light of openness, hark the herald angels sigh

open the box of trad vibrations lost the lid in the mad rush, the crush of expectation, paradigms hide agendas under pretty paper

tribal elders sip cold beers and reminisce about the circumstances that nurtured the hair brained to utter in the first place

continue reverse shift key from bad to sad greeks bearing gifts of twinkly stars every time we said good bye until the last

perversely mixed with liguini fritters & hidden malice the garotting takes on a new light glory to the new born thing