I’m tired of sleeping
Circulation’s weakening
I’m tired of draining inspirations
Losing my imaginations
Why could you not stay?
Why did you leave?
Me, here, searing
I’m tired of living
Oh, muse kiss
Me where blood pours
Through oh please
Revive me now that
I’am alive
I’m tired of screaming this
Crude words just to feel how my throat hurts…
The ache makes me
Abide my
Senses will wither in the course of
Time seems to become a sphere
I’ve been here before
Some thoughts ago and I
Fear I had stopped moving
Forward and I had been to slow
And missed the tick
To stop the show
I’m a maverick
I am still uninspired
Left me here so tired
Words are senseless for me
A well-meant needlessness for me
All my dreams are fading
I am tired of complaining
Greece. What’s going on there? How can so many good desert tunes come from such a lush land? I’m just starting on IS’s sonic journey at the beginning and I’ll tell you that’s a happy place to be. The saxs on Perfect Sunday has a Jazz feel. I’m struggling to pigeonhole these guys. The usual suspects are here though & I feel comfortable in the knowledge that I’m in good company. These are my people & we’re rocking out to the same tunes regardless of where we are. There’s comfort in that. Harry Harrison