- algebra, lip, chalk, music, hair, eyelash, storm
- hamster, ornamental grass, Tokyo, phone book, popcorn machine
(Dancing on the Berlin wall, video above… however click the youtube on the bottom right corner to play it in a youtube window and you’ll see this is a n album of videos so you can scroll through to dancing on the berlin wall or… listen for 30 minutes ish and then read on :D) with a Russian-esque march part- not unlike Rachmaninov’s prelude in g minor, one too many memories of a wine i didn’t drink today despite how it sounds nor love or hate Dornfelder, it it’s time to dance across the wall came down. you’ve seen enough frown in your lives not to want to party your moment any which way joy’s found. And what of, of Sumerian filthy love poems and wine?
Algebra ‘s to mean the reunion of broken things…I bet bet the only reunion talk about algebra you ever consider or in conversations then littered was how much it blew corny chunks of vomit… maybe even the vomit was more interesting…. but you still needed algebra for the biology 😛 talk of algebra led most likely to a fat lip not honey, you’re broken, let us reunite. chalk up romantic algebra as least like to lead one anywhere but a desk…. however, unlike the joke of us as hamsters at our wheels toiling to solve xeuals …no chance at the xx chromosomed oh xy?
meet me by the oramental grasses.. you know the type? tall prairie grasses to make cattails again ordinary and just as swampy for it. meat me. let love speak up itself meat me ma’am where music will be the soundtrack of our Tokyo storm… sushi by grass-side lawns sing out all my hopes love even if all i get is a mouthful of bubblegum hair and a batted eyelash flirt. solve for x, oh (wh)y. it’s rather Iranian which is to mean irritatin’ but such is the equation.
As with such fires dancing *listed video present is of no surprise, the skyline firedance solo album of David Lanz so you all not have hard or far to look for wine and sunset feeling some Sunday morning over coffee and hangovers waiting to march to your suburbanite dooms somewhere… somewhere duller than the romance promised. sunsets and wine. when have you had such a time? but to speak again algebraically, so many broken things need reunion in our day so many we are left without much time but to await finding our loves in some phonebook or around the nursing home popcorn machine.