In this room we get darkened & allow the drugs to move us. Here we touch into a new place. There, we will meet, but everything will have changed. Even our names. I am waiting for the change, the beat is my driver. I am waiting.
I am waiting. I am waiting for the drugs to move me. I am waiting for them to obscure and purify. I find a friend: we wait together. Waiting can be long. We talk about waiting. We talk about nothing. This, this is nothing.
This, this is nothing. We have swallowed angels. Waiting for them to glide to our brain. Play the fucking harp. Be mellifluous. Don't let me down now. My friend has joined the dance. The dance. Our partaking in darkness, beams of light re-shaping the mystery, leading to who knows what. It is our disappearing. We dance & we are thin air. Where to go in the darkness?
Where to go in the darkness? Drugs running now, mind running over the lines. Find the music's central firing. Directions of music firing. Faces in the glow. Bodies receiving rhythm. I take the rhythm. This is not holy. (This is fury of futures.) Mistake myself for no one. No one dreaming on. I am more with the flow now. I am moving towards. We are all moving towards. Flow is here. We are the outer reaches. Extension of the flow.
Extension of the flow. Spectre-dance of futures, dream with us. We dream you, you dream us. Beneath us is a beat. Our foundation. We are founders. Here, with the city hidden, we are founders. Everything will happen.
Everything will happen. Execute the rhythm. Bring the rhythm closer, so we can see each other. We see each other now. Bring the rhythm closer.
Bring the rhythm closer. The fragile one has entered the building. Love has entered. Most fragile, most potent. Can we protect each other? I see friends everywhere inside the dance. They see back at me. We release. We arrive finally. Bullshit burnt away.
Bullshit burnt away. We travel. This is perhaps us, maybe this is what we are. See the scene around us.
See the scene around us.
(c) Stu Hatton 2002
http://wordyness.blogspot.com/2005/03/scene-2002.html
I am waiting. I am waiting for the drugs to move me. I am waiting for them to obscure and purify. I find a friend: we wait together. Waiting can be long. We talk about waiting. We talk about nothing. This, this is nothing.
This, this is nothing. We have swallowed angels. Waiting for them to glide to our brain. Play the fucking harp. Be mellifluous. Don't let me down now. My friend has joined the dance. The dance. Our partaking in darkness, beams of light re-shaping the mystery, leading to who knows what. It is our disappearing. We dance & we are thin air. Where to go in the darkness?
Where to go in the darkness? Drugs running now, mind running over the lines. Find the music's central firing. Directions of music firing. Faces in the glow. Bodies receiving rhythm. I take the rhythm. This is not holy. (This is fury of futures.) Mistake myself for no one. No one dreaming on. I am more with the flow now. I am moving towards. We are all moving towards. Flow is here. We are the outer reaches. Extension of the flow.
Extension of the flow. Spectre-dance of futures, dream with us. We dream you, you dream us. Beneath us is a beat. Our foundation. We are founders. Here, with the city hidden, we are founders. Everything will happen.
Everything will happen. Execute the rhythm. Bring the rhythm closer, so we can see each other. We see each other now. Bring the rhythm closer.
Bring the rhythm closer. The fragile one has entered the building. Love has entered. Most fragile, most potent. Can we protect each other? I see friends everywhere inside the dance. They see back at me. We release. We arrive finally. Bullshit burnt away.
Bullshit burnt away. We travel. This is perhaps us, maybe this is what we are. See the scene around us.
See the scene around us.
(c) Stu Hatton 2002
http://wordyness.blogspot.com/2005/03/scene-2002.html
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