Is not Sunday the day of rest?, As John Denver said "all my bags are packed I'm ready to go" I had stayed up all night some time ago to save on the waking you up to say goodbye...
The last days in Texas and I am hung on the last day in London two months ago. Time is slower here. And its a funny way to lose your head and find your feet: Blowing out the left overs of the lord. Clean again, finally free from the assorted guts of a Case International Harvester Combine. The best of me was futile here. I left it somehow In the United Kingdom. And the return journey was not a straight nor narrow.
West was the battle cry. California or Bust. The Industry of Make Believe. And the Freeways I knew all to well. Theatres, Movie Sets, Studios, All waiting with there ivory capped teeth, smiling a smile that one with the right eyes can see the sinister intention that will take you in and hold you there forever. This would be fine had there not been Europe. In the Golden state, my craft's at least were appreciated, though my direction changed steadily toward an Eagle Scout Mobility Badge. Music Is a tomahawk in the hands of a Moosechaser.
No comments:
Post a Comment