The Hobos were drinking thier drugs out of cans again. Got e'm wholesale. It's he only way to do it. These are times of discontent. Not that you'd know it just by looking around. Just a whole lot a fat floaters un the surface of the big pool.
WE walk back and forwards looking for wheelchairs. Anything to break the monotony, to raise an eyebrow, to break a leg. Those brief moments you remeber you were once a child and nothing mattered, and even if it did you could laugh it off.
To be honest, i don't give a dam, because i do it'll just be a damn shame.
But if i was a hobo i'd light a big fire just so i had no choice but to try to keep ahead of the flames.
NO, this is a time of alcoholics in bed socks with punch bag heads. Sometimes i can be fooled into thinking that sometimes someone's going to play it fair. Above board. Where all the pieces were actually on the table instead of being hidden in dark holes that are hidden in even darker people. We become silent voyeurs. We were never asked what it was we wanted, we were just told, in black & white, what - we wanted to be.
Nightmare Hobo wakes up hurting worse than most of you would know. But he could smile and run at the drop of a hat. Nothing to cancel. Nothing to have that isn't truly yours. Fuck your 50 kilos of samsonite luggage for a few weeks away at our house by the lake. Nightmare Hobo wakes up and knows exactly when to start and how fast and how hard to push up if he's climbing aboard or how hard to cling before waiting for the strength. It's amazing how much strength you find when you know for a fact you're going under the wheels.
What's the temptation?
What's the love gone wrong?
We spent an aftrnoon with a couple who are soon to celebrate their Golden Wedlock Anniversay. Thought the idea of a 'party' was not one for us. I 'm riding a line with just about as much mindfuck i can use. We talk MS, we eat fish pie. Of a strange and distressed chilhood. Of death and their dog with a bloody paw. Cleaning and Sticking and bandaging, seemed somehow i was vet in charge. And i gave them a 35 billion year old stone i'd found high on hill. then sculptered with a diamond bladed grinder, made striped light down it's spine and ground through to the pink stone inside. And i wondered how many women, or couples seem to want to tie themselves down to that moment in time, The time to start planning a new kitchen.
The eat and die brigade. How many are out there? Are they the majority the carriers of mankind's torch.
Seems fitting to me.
There's a new General just taken over. Gerneral Apathy; the last white hope of the great ape.
WE walk back and forwards looking for wheelchairs. Anything to break the monotony, to raise an eyebrow, to break a leg. Those brief moments you remeber you were once a child and nothing mattered, and even if it did you could laugh it off.
To be honest, i don't give a dam, because i do it'll just be a damn shame.
But if i was a hobo i'd light a big fire just so i had no choice but to try to keep ahead of the flames.
NO, this is a time of alcoholics in bed socks with punch bag heads. Sometimes i can be fooled into thinking that sometimes someone's going to play it fair. Above board. Where all the pieces were actually on the table instead of being hidden in dark holes that are hidden in even darker people. We become silent voyeurs. We were never asked what it was we wanted, we were just told, in black & white, what - we wanted to be.
Nightmare Hobo wakes up hurting worse than most of you would know. But he could smile and run at the drop of a hat. Nothing to cancel. Nothing to have that isn't truly yours. Fuck your 50 kilos of samsonite luggage for a few weeks away at our house by the lake. Nightmare Hobo wakes up and knows exactly when to start and how fast and how hard to push up if he's climbing aboard or how hard to cling before waiting for the strength. It's amazing how much strength you find when you know for a fact you're going under the wheels.
What's the temptation?
What's the love gone wrong?
We spent an aftrnoon with a couple who are soon to celebrate their Golden Wedlock Anniversay. Thought the idea of a 'party' was not one for us. I 'm riding a line with just about as much mindfuck i can use. We talk MS, we eat fish pie. Of a strange and distressed chilhood. Of death and their dog with a bloody paw. Cleaning and Sticking and bandaging, seemed somehow i was vet in charge. And i gave them a 35 billion year old stone i'd found high on hill. then sculptered with a diamond bladed grinder, made striped light down it's spine and ground through to the pink stone inside. And i wondered how many women, or couples seem to want to tie themselves down to that moment in time, The time to start planning a new kitchen.
The eat and die brigade. How many are out there? Are they the majority the carriers of mankind's torch.
Seems fitting to me.
There's a new General just taken over. Gerneral Apathy; the last white hope of the great ape.
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