i still believe in choice (looking for corners and finding hope)

it thunders across the sky like large ships through the sand. it implodes in rooms and sizzles on wires. this is what fuzz and mellotrons are for. the whole measurement of here to there. marked bit by bit. recorded in catalogs and almanacs.

so we lift the fallen fruit. we take the tender ripened labor of another year. the sum of falling rain and drifting ash on a hill. on a hill sliding to the sea. does it call, does it shine, will it last the winter.

but,

and this is important.

there are rumblings, there are mumblings of;;; a slowly cresting silver dawn for crippled children and wounded sloping memories filled with golden apples in the glen. if there is the will and if there is the stay it,ll be pianos calling you softly, warmly from an early grave... to dance once more upon this earth we are bent to till again and again.