The night is black. Without a moon. The air is thick, and still. . The vigilantes gather on. The lonely torchlit hill. . Features distorted in the flickering light.
The night is black. Without a moon. The air is thick and still. The vigilantes gather on. The lonely torch lit hill. . Features distorted in the flickering light.
Unstable condition:. A symptom of life. In mental,. And enviromental. Change. . Atmospheric disturbance -. the feverish flux,. Of human interface. And interchange.
We've got nothing to fear but fear itself. Not pain or failure, not fatal tragedy. Not the faulty units in this mad machinery. Not the broken contacts in emotional chemistry?.
We've got nothing to fear but fear itself. Not pain or failure, not fatal tragedy. Not the faulty units in this mad machinery. Not the broken contacts in emotional chemistry?.
A pleasant faced man steps up to greet you. he smiles and says he's pleased to meet you. Beneath his hat the strangeness lies. Take it off he's got three eyes.
Grim-faced and forbidding. Their faces closed tight. an angular mass of New Yorkers. Pacing in rhythm. Race the oncoming night. They chase through the streets of Manhattan.
He's a rebel and a runner. He's a signal turning green. He's a restless young romantic. Wants to run the big machine. . He's got a problem with his poisons.
I - Tide Pools. When the ebbing tide retreats along the rocky shoreline. It leaves a trail of tide pools in a short-lived galaxy. Each microcosmic planet a complete society.
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Imagine a time when it all began. In the dying days of a war. A weapon that would settle the score. Whoever found it first. Would be sure to do their worst.
When the dragons grow too mighty. To slay with pen or sword. I grow weary of the battle. And the storm I walk toward. When all around is madness. And there's no safe port in view.
The dancer slows her frantic pace. In pain and desperation,. Her aching limbs and downcast face. Aglow with perspiration. . Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire,.
Living on a lighted stage. Approaches the unreal. For those who think and feel. In touch with some reality. Beyond the gilded cage. . Cast in this unlikely role.
Midway hawkers calling. "Try your luck with me". Merry-go-round wheezing. The same old melody. A thousand ten cent wonders. Who could ask for more?. A pocketful of silver.
Tough times demand tough talk. Demand tough hearts demand tough songs. Demand.. . We can rise and fall like empires. Flow in and out like the tide. Be vain and smart, humble and dumb.
We are secrets to each other. Each one's life a novel. No-one else has read. Even joined in bonds of love. We're linked to one another. By such slender threads.
An ill wind comes arising. Across the cities of the plain. There's no swimming in the heavy water. No singing in the acid rain. Red alert. Red alert. .
His world is under observation. We monitor his station. Under faces and the places. Where he traces points of view. . He picks up scraps of conversation.
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