Something from somewhere much earlier.
I sing it now as it was then.
There are times i’m so completely posessed;
That it’s not a decision anymore.
Lost in time, before the illusion of space; enchanted by light, something pretty to distract me from the agonising absolution of the frustration.
I used to think that I was not supposed to be here. That my removal would balance the equation, maybe set the record straight. I see so clearly now how immeasurably beautiful, cruel and brutal the paradoxical truth of the matter is.
To think I once considered myself an authority on irony.
I always appraised highly, the idea of raising hell; to serve a greater good.
That I would suffer alone for the things that had to be done; to live a life no cinematographer could envision.
That mine is a story that would be told.
How could I forget?
The truth I’ve conveyed a thousand fleeting times to slip, back through the loop like falling grains of sand.