I was drinking one night -- that's how most of my stories start -- thinking about somebody I used to love. This is raw, no effects, recorded on a single mic.

Leafless trees hung low in the cold. I saw myself kneel, fall, die all alone. No pity, no tears, no profound song. Just gone. The limbs of the trees broke in the wind. Worn and old from beckoning, again and again. But no god came. In the end…

Just a simple song about a horsey ride. Little me and my Alvarez, recorded on a single cheap MXL mic., no effects. -- Misty on my face is the love of gods calling me Ice upon my skin made more painful by this solitude Ride upon my broken steed…

Just doodling.

Something old.

Something old.

Another great backer by Speed Demon Gene ...

Something old.

Something old.

Helplessly But then sometimes in the colorless light of a hazy windy moonlit night, the feeling haunts you like you've known that you would always be alone. But then sometimes in the sparkling sun, you think of things you should have done…