My attempt at old school Americana.

This could be profound A holy fountain Of our unbounded love Home ceases to be A place so much as Simply us (and how!) This is firmer ground My core announces That falling down with The one who picks you up Isn't true falling You…

I wrote this when the cliche's were still new and dirt was rocks. Keith Richards was still pretty old though.

A sketch with an attempt to capture the gathering light of a forest floor as the sun rises along the St. Croix River. Microfreak and guitar with looper pedal and reverb.

Note: Dr. Sattilaro strayed from the diet in the late '80s and back onto typical Western fare, his cancer returned, and he died soon thereafter.