On my way to the club. I fell down a hole. All the people there. Said have you come alone. . And I, I just want to be, darling with you. The music's made that way.
Holy man tiptoed his way across the Ganges. The sound of magic music in his ears. Videoed by a bus load of tourists. Shiny shell-suits on and drinking lemonade.
Lead in me and me in water. Dangling in my word. I swallowed too much oily water. It keeps slipping down my spine. . In a sense of self decline. Growing fat on sound.