unspokenwords.
are we going to go for greatness tomorrow? meet and greet in such a way as to make those greys fade away..?
for those who see moments as opportunities rather than one step closer to the end of the beginning, stimulation comes from inane inspiration, leaving insane indentations on the spirit of the world..lets leave our mark, our scars of the labour of love that comes from the darkness, bringing us forever into the light.
darkness fades to technicolour splendour, the composers of the heavens polish their medleys, flitting round clouds to resemble jewels of the sky, darkness gives one more shimmy in its death throes, dawn break, the sun rises high, like it will till the moment of our liberation, and for this we smile.
i dream, you dream, we all dream for that unrealised dream behind our dreams..were it not for our dreams our reality would be tinged with an unspoken regret, for our dreams are the playground for our essential being, running naked in the rain, where there is no pain or refrain. i guess what im trying to say is dont let the stifled screams of your soul define your losses, for that is not what they are, although that is what they must appear to be.
what does that matter? its like your art, who cares? its you being you doing what you do, screaming out to all and sundry that music makes you feel fresh and funky..
stuffed carriages remind me of automated crystal mazes, unstable tracks lead to impromptu rendezvous, hurried apologies and stifled giggles.
the italians say bed is a poor mans opera - i think the world needs our duet.
for those who see moments as opportunities rather than one step closer to the end of the beginning, stimulation comes from inane inspiration, leaving insane indentations on the spirit of the world..lets leave our mark, our scars of the labour of love that comes from the darkness, bringing us forever into the light.
darkness fades to technicolour splendour, the composers of the heavens polish their medleys, flitting round clouds to resemble jewels of the sky, darkness gives one more shimmy in its death throes, dawn break, the sun rises high, like it will till the moment of our liberation, and for this we smile.
i dream, you dream, we all dream for that unrealised dream behind our dreams..were it not for our dreams our reality would be tinged with an unspoken regret, for our dreams are the playground for our essential being, running naked in the rain, where there is no pain or refrain. i guess what im trying to say is dont let the stifled screams of your soul define your losses, for that is not what they are, although that is what they must appear to be.
what does that matter? its like your art, who cares? its you being you doing what you do, screaming out to all and sundry that music makes you feel fresh and funky..
stuffed carriages remind me of automated crystal mazes, unstable tracks lead to impromptu rendezvous, hurried apologies and stifled giggles.
the italians say bed is a poor mans opera - i think the world needs our duet.