walking all day

yeah... almost... so I guarantee I'll share this song again somewhere as always... Van is f'n amazing!!!

dialogue between two empaths the pain-flow back and forth could crush them or they could calm it down with copious compassion like a light shield that filters light through time so it slows almost to a stop so our eyes yours and mine can receive and process like two little wet squishy globules of flesh wired with awareness and the visual perception of hard pain think of Oedipus and Gloucester but our eyes yours and mine are so limited like the tiny burrower holes in solid tree trunks that let small pin-beams of light into the solid wood of the core of the tree trunk that like all living flesh and living wood-flesh burns with life

all I want is to breathe I'm too thin won't you breath with me find a little space so we move in-between in-between it and keep one step ahead of yourself don't you miss it don't you miss it. some a you people just about missed it last time to make plans well I'm a tumbler I'm a government man

Changing of the guards sixteen years sixteen banners united over the field where the good shepherd grieves desperate men, desperate women divided spreading their wings ’neath the falling leaves fortune calls I stepped forth from the shadows, to the marketplace merchants and thieves, hungry for power, my last deal gone  down she’s smelling sweet like the meadows where she was born on midsummer’s eve, near the tower the cold-blooded moon the captain waits above the celebration sending his thoughts to a beloved maid whose ebony face is beyond communication the captain is down but still believing that his love will be repaid they shaved her head she was torn between Jupiter and Apollo a messenger arrived with a black nightingale I seen her on the stairs and I couldn’t help but follow follow her down past the fountain where they lifted her veil I stumbled to my feet I rode past destruction in the ditches with the stitches still mending ’neath a hea...

I'm not present I'm a drug that makes you dream I'm an aerostar I'm a cutlass supreme in the wrong lane trying to turn against the flow

Tower of Hercules A Coruña, Galicia, Spain Saturday 10 March 2018 So focused on one object or on one person or one idea that you walk into solid telephone or light poles or step into holes—or a cold thirty-mile-per-hour wind blows you clean off your feet into the cold Atlantic off the grey stony point that serves as foundation offered by the earth for the solid base—old beyond all human chronologies that rises from disturbed and tormented water to support—of great and of ruined stone and tarnished   mythologies—the base of the guiding light—the tower built from chanting dim distant memories of the Romans— their memories were darkened by the ages even in the oldest Latin annals—the Tower of Hercules in Á Coruña—tower of light that lights the vast dark space of old time that surrounds the city that juts far out into the Atlantic on a lone peninsula of stone surrounded by ancient earth water air and...