I know moon's swell.. and it feels good on my skinwoman of the waves, take me back to surprise fractions of fictions function astangled webs of slow motion look backsand feeble attempts to gloss over containment driving in the rain in search of a lost...

i know moon's swell.. and it feels good on my skinwoman of the waves, take me back to surprise fractions of fictions function astangled webs of slow motion look backsand feeble attempts to gloss over containment driving in the rain in search of a lost...

My soul does not reside in this moment. But in the memory of sitting in the grass with unknown music, playing around us.. the sun beating down on my wide brimmed hat, keeping time with the bass and drums. It sits in sticky puddles of baked beans, blood sausage, pickle...