Long-Long ago - 

When I used to Croon -

I wrote a song about a poet -

Under the Light of the Moon

His words could paint a thousand pictures -

Of Tales of Woe - and Blood that would spill -

And yet he had no coin for ink or parchment

His words would die without Ink for his Quill

Erstwhile -

It's time to let the Surreal Imagery have full sway - Why fight it. The Spirits have waiting for me for so long. Moreover it gave me a reason - (any reason) to pick up and plug in my Gold Top Les Paul - so I could improvise some riffs off the cuff and have some real fun. These are the moments when I let go so it can flow through me. The Djin have come home to roost. (I really missed it so - when I was alive and she comforted me) She fit real well - she felt like home - That was a nice guitar. Yeah it's a drag - cause I ended up having to let it go to make ends meet. To let hearts break.



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