just as it’s time to Leave lightly as a feather comes a band a cut from a rug

just as it’s time to Leave lightly as a feather comes a band a cut from a rug

comes to the senses a sweetness so sweet and deep that the tongue curls and presses hard inside the mouth holding, for a moment, and for another the throat catches closes so the sweetness cannot pass…

Well it seems your quill is alone rather a lot, of late. The silver lining - and surely it has to be a trick of the light, that shimmer on things, redoubtably more mercurial than arg-arg-argentic - is time freely spend a-practicin', and even the…

Well there's one kind favour I'll ask of you See that my grave is kept clean Well there's two white horses in a line Carryin' me to my buryin' ground Dig my grave with a silver spade And lower me down with a golden chain If you ever…

comes to the senses a sweetness so sweet and deep that the tongue curls and presses hard inside the mouth holding, for a moment, and for another the throat catches closes so the sweetness cannot pass…

Oh, my holy noodles. *Another* bloody 12-bar in E, and what's worse, it's a *slow* blues. Every guitar player who deems it appropriate to play a slow blues in E, in this the 21st, should be roasted like a head of garlic, smeared across a toasted…

Well it seems your quill is alone rather a lot, of late. The silver lining - and surely it has to be a trick of the light, that shimmer on things, redoubtably more mercurial than arg-arg-argentic - is time freely spend a-practicin', and even the…

Well there's one kind favour I'll ask of you See that my grave is kept clean Well there's two white horses in a line Carryin' me to my buryin' ground Dig my grave with a silver spade And lower me down with a golden chain If you ever…

comes to the senses a sweetness so sweet and deep that the tongue curls and presses hard inside the mouth holding, for a moment, and for another the throat catches closes so the sweetness cannot pass…