Sort of a Tuesday improv... Built up around a synth texture that I built up with: Operator->FilterStation->Volcano->Kombinat->Panstation->RP-Delay (what's the fun in having plugins if you can't abuse them)

I won't tell you how many chords there are in this one but listen until the end.

Things which are alike, in nature, grow to look alike.

The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn from the crow.

I'll tell you one thing: if that there Blake fella keeps on shootin' marshals, I might end up liking the bastard!

I'll tell you one thing for sure... I wouldn't trust no words written down on no piece of paper, especially from no Dickinson out in the town of Machine... you're just as likely to find your own grave.

In 1951 I was eight years old but it's all like yesterday. The tumbleweeds and the horny toads. Flying kites so far into the desert air that I couldn't see them. Palmdale, California, 1951 Pretty yellow chickens hating in the sun Fertilizer…

Amazing we are able to survive with so little knowledge. Amazing we are so sure of ourselves. Or are we just acting? Hoping not to be exposed?

Sometimes it might be best not to even think about what terrible things might happen. It might be part of setting those very terrible things in motion. How can one know?

Lyrics Cry of Love Cry of love, heard in the meadow Watching the wind blow With love in the air Cry of love, answered by another Who courts the same lovers With sounds of despair Cry of love, heard in the daylight Still crying…