A hiss. A crack. The air is rent by thunder and the sky prays to the living. A storm is brewing over Brooklyn. Nothing could be more appropriate than clouds blackened by pendulous life!
Death goes to the winner: it means mortality is what gives our lives meaning. Not a precious few minutes have we, but eons unto themselves flaking away like tree bark.
The storm arrives scattering unpredictability and everyone wrapped up in the meely scraping alive runs for cover.
I love to live. I love to laugh. I love to let it rain in my eyes. Layers of doom cannot scare me. Sayers of gloom cannot hear me.
If you can’t see a point to what you can’t understand, then you should fear me.
Rock n’ Roll is how I say I love you.
Guitar distortion is how I say I care.
Rock n’ Roll is why I am alive.
Pippi Comes Out of Retirement
11 months ago