Soul o’ mine’s gone burnt a hole, in my vocabulary. Feel myself empty-in’ out, washed ashore; eerie tides.
Instincts ignored lead astray; not at all ideal. Wet and sheepish, shuffle home; curl up in the comfort.
Score seems so familiar by now, know just what is needed. Find the sound in looping back, though wondering in the present; if it’s time it all came right.
Feels as though I’m ready.
‘..Church of noise. Everything is sound. The light in the stars, the light in the stars! Church, of, noise!’ – The Bloody Beetroots