Well within those walls...
Your voice of alienation and words of solitude recall filed away memories. These nostalgic incidents come up the same way gin goes down, bitterly burning all the way through and then instantly replaced by that warm thrill of confusion, that space cadet glow. Alot is proven and can be seen through your epic sonic landscape. The bombardier planes flying over as mother loves you, baby. The unsettling repetitive of phantasmic voices, which speak almost in a mocking tone. The celebratory and joyous drum line accompanied by celestial voices. But most of all, the nakedness of your voice disarms and strips me to the core, leaving me in the flesh. I can hear you, and so I nod my head in affirmation. I find numbness and comfort in the cavernous blackness and silence of it all. Who cares that you won't let me fly if I can sing.
I can't really tell which one i dig more....
this one...
or this one...
I can't really tell which one i dig more....
this one...
Click to viewor this one...