retro specs of dusts...inclined to look behind...we study the past and plow forward from the now to the future...
our vessel is our tabernacle...amour plated welcome barnacles and belated birthdays...
turn, shift, shun sun, praise the moon, verse your vices return soon...spinal flux, you'll feel it in your head
and from that bow an enantiomorphic figure emerges in the distance ... unrecognizable from the surrounding blooms of beauty...
Stripped charred and shattered the deck slowly decays down to the belly...life flourishes and we sink...
♫ænd then and only then do we see our mirror...legless and no longer able to run...we retreat with releif into the soil ... smiling at the still winds of the doldrums...
the boat sinks just to find our selves in another boat...
immorrtal yet stuck in a cell
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