with each thrust of march, his lifeless head
smashed about, not unlike a paddle-ball
i always wondered what it'd be like to use your own breath
to fog up one's glasses, but not to wipe the condensation off
with the cuff of one's shirt
and without any thought behind this process
as if it made any fucking difference
...but then again...every time i stop, i still see pots
PSA: if there was an album you heard a couple years ago and thought it was ok, listen to it again and you might love it.
That's what happened to me with this album. I cannot fathom why it didn't stick with me back then. Same thing happened with Decoherence's Unitarity for that matter. Matten