A revised mix of this ditty, with more from the "IRS" and local cops...

This song is from Don McLean's first album. I grew up listening to and loving this song, and had long since forgotten about it until it popped into my head this morning.

They turned the old house into rubble with my memories inside Picture frames still hanging, glimmer still in your eyes I think of all the parties that we used to throw Glitter clung to the baseboards like new fallen snow And I'm wishing…

I had SO MUCH FUN producing this Track. I hope a little bit of this energy transfers to you, my dear listener. Maybe I should produce more in this style...spaghetti-western-core :-D Just kidding... ...or am I?

by XTC

I've been reflecting on the quiet current of my life over the last few days. Now that I've had a chance to rest, I am struggling with holding myself in a positive light.

credits: Paul and Linda McCartney

The rose of sharon is blooming again Summer's slowly approaching its end No kids are playing, no slip n' slides Hotter than hell but I don't know why Cut the grass, shouldn't be that hard Empty bottle lying in the yard Is it trash or is…

A tribute to the serenity and profound beauty of winter, the gentle hush of snowfall blanketing the earth, and the timeless magic that dwells within winter's icy embrace.

a voice mail message from the "IRS" and some instrumental tracks I'd been messing around with for awhile.

I am a butterfly but not a monarch I’m meat sliced thin and looking stark On the granite, part of a meal unfinished Swept off the counter and Into the garbage I’m sorry, that was dark I’m just a victim of pathetic fallacy I’m partial…

When I was young I tiptoed the garden And then I salted all that I could see The summer sun it seemed a yoke upon me But no so much for the open-hearted leaves August came around while I was sleeping September grasses bent under my feet…

We go dey alright is an afro beat song to encourage all hustlers.. enjoy

by XTC

by XTC

There was a man from Galilee With hands that cared for everything They took his plow and beat it into swords I have a dad I never see And children here in front of me We’re going where the apples taste like flowers I wouldn’t…