Out from the murky muddy waters of that flooded forest. I found a city made of stone able to stand up to the fires that may lie around me.
I can sit and rock myself back and forth, on the same three chords all night, talking in circles. It's like a second language; music is an extension of language... It's the breath on the microphone, the metallic chill against your lips, and the sound of the bench below you as it squeaks and pops while the following line pulls you fast around an elliptical bend.
if circles could get over themselves they would spin me away, and break my time and chain.
These are the things around me as I see them; it is my pleasure to share them with you.