SONG OF A STREET SCULPTURE MOUTH:
This is what we sound like when nothing is holding us back,
looking, looking, looking for a double shot of ‘good’.
You squeak & squawk, but it’s not singing. Close that mouth,
too early in the morning! Blue, blue, blue, flicking, flicking,
flicking, silent lookdown, dressed in black.
Get rich.
Get out’ve here!
(K)
Karl Hyde 
Erste!-)
You’ve had a few of these lately, the human herd out of sync, the need to be heard first or loudest. Not all madness is beautiful. The Crows woke me this morning squawking psychotically. They have a problem but it’s not mine, screaming with all their might they drive away the smaller birds sweet song. They came back the little ones, their song always outshines the other ones. Lilly Allen, Fuck You breaks the mornings musical silence
‘The humen herd out of sync,the need to be heard first or loudest…’If i stroll around i can see,that you want speak your own problem to a problem of mine.
So the unbeauty of your madness works twice.