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Life in the slow lane
Life in the slow lane has its pleasure. I have been playing guitar and writing in the early mornings but recording them on my phone because they take time to develop and you know, relaxing swallows time like nothing I know. So I have stray lines that slip into place, they just appear at random, sometimes slipping into place and sometimes not. Like, the day after the carnival, the boats left the harbour; mistakes were made but no one cared, half way moon was only half way there, take me with you when you go; the moon, candy apple white and perfumed by jasmine, colourblind to indifference, the rag and bone man called it the greatest show on earth, big top, high wire, flying trapeze...' what's to be made of the random fragments? Time well tell in time. For now I have swim to get in before breakfast while listening to this - which has come around on the random shuffle as I write - takes me back:
Life in the slow lane has its pleasure. I have been playing guitar and writing in the early mornings but recording them on my phone because they take time to develop and you know, relaxing swallows time like nothing I know. So I have stray lines that slip into place, they just appear at random, sometimes slipping into place and sometimes not. Like, the day after the carnival, the boats left the harbour; mistakes were made but no one cared, half way moon was only half way there, take me with you when you go; the moon, candy apple white and perfumed by jasmine, colourblind to indifference, the rag and bone man called it the greatest show on earth, big top, high wire, flying trapeze...' what's to be made of the random fragments? Time well tell in time. For now I have swim to get in before breakfast while listening to this - which has come around on the random shuffle as I write - takes me back:
