Listen Along (Press the play button)
Its telling you something. What is it? What is it that life is telling you? Life is here. Life is now. Life is the thing that makes the heart go around. We’re conscious. We’re alive. We’re the pudding, we’re the kitchen, we’re the boiler, we’re the fry. We can eat ourselves to death, or consume alcohol till we die, we’re the idiot, we’re the thigh. We cry, until we wine and dine; and our purpose it seems is to dye and cry. We haven;t done much to enjoy this experience, and we’re on the fringe of the bang – we’re deadpan. So we define ourselves as being only that. The thing that stinks and the thing that can’t think for itself. The source of our reparations is within think-selves. We define ourselves in another unique perspective, we’re something as a result of the whole and we ARE the whole. The whole that makes us weak, the whole that makes our whole week. The emptiness, the darkness, the failed preacher partruous. We haven’t done much to deliver state of mind, we’ve done much more to deliver saliva glands, on women. We’re hurting them and we’re hurting ourselves. We’ve doubted. Everything about them in other oceans. We’re swimmers, we’re trying to be alive and never wake up. At the same rhytm.