substitute

nothing is forgotten but erasers big like egoes and dirty thoughts accumulated in one drastic dust storm erase what was. fleeting though, the moments and what is was and will be.
oh, i need a dirty woman, ooooh, i need a dirty girl.
memories come up with song lines and guitar solos win in importance. everything grows and gets bigger in proportion to your knowledge.

what a good day, ironic how fate always is so determined in proving wrong, at times it seems as if takes just the controrary belief. a little work needs to be done and it is done and everything aquires silence like fat cheeses new stocks in the stock market. option futures. all behind.

needless to say that now it is the time of the season again, this is called self-vacation and: berlin berlin i miss you so. wheels are rolling by, vacant of colors but replenished with sounds, vibrating, setting this world in fire, outside, there are other realities, each one of which like a single coin, switch the pick up and you might hear an entire new world.

depressing songs are like unfathomable suicide bombers. you never know when they will hit you and i hope sincerely they will never hit you. not you. not you especially. like this moment when i thought that fate could very much likely be so cruel and sarcastic as to let this happen and kill you out of my arms.

we don't need no education. da-da-da-dada-..

no thought control

long long time ago i discovered a new world and friends were at my side. bumble bees promised comfort and trustable tongues settled on my skin like feathers in the wind when the sun kisses them.
a little campfire. other days of substitution come into mind. like back in berlin, from outside, then from the inside and nothing really could explain why. ideologies had to vacant the thrones in order to make place for exploration.

thoughts sweet like honey trickle into forgotten corners of the searching soul. secretely i wrapped my longing in golden linen, a medicine bag and other wrappers, never forget to find the little triangle of ripping open when you leave in early grey morning hours, in case it wasn't your proper place to sweat. makes me sing and wonder and ache, what if, against a tree.
but you stand strong and i retire into my weakness, just for a little vacation. but it's not as if you didn't know.

lying in cotton clouds, little campfire subsitutes flying like fire bugs in the dark. relax, read the smoke rings, maybe there is an answer where you are not. are you receeding or am I fitting into this reality like a glove? and does it always have to be a peace dove? and what about the dove ad campaign? it did a good job.
oh my God, today I really want to let it at my left side and turn on my heels like a spinning fire wheel. this wheel shall explode. and when we are done, with contemplating and confiscicating the dirty little things we set them free like splendid white laundry flattering the space between.
thighs and sighs rhyme and hold each other tight. it might be a beautiful sight. don't hide in forgive plight and just understand that we could be alright. i know that it is your fight. it is my night that is filled with screams for right and justice and appletrees that are blossoming in spring light.

i have become comfortably numb