My Strange Nature / 18 March 2009
My concentration is shit at the moment, but I am able to write lyrics here and there on napkins and envelopes. Of course, the songs reflect the haunting sunshine my mind seems to be currently burning with. I wrote the following on a Sainsbury till receipt:
My strange nature
My sunrises are made of bones
My trees know how to bleed
My rain kills butterflies
I can fly but I will never be freed
Clouds are slaughtered sheep
And the wind are dreams without a home
No one wants to hear my volcano heart
Or
My strange nature
Or
My strange nature
I hope this strange nature show has been entertaining, although I do not have the David Attenborough commentary as auditory hallucination to offer you. Sorry about that.