WHO BUILT THIS FENCE?:
Sleeping in a silent room at the other end of the house – weird.
Like living in a hotel. Bits of me keep arriving from Berlin
at random intervals like lost luggage. Multi-tasking, when I desire
only prep for touring.
Rising in the dark again, yesterday’s trick on hold to play taxi
to the station. Laughing in the car, with you. Only interested in
solutions as problems fall away.The positivism of dancing
counteracts a dark side landslide. I was always too self-conscious
to dance in public, though it always looked sooo good. Wish I had it
in me but I don’t. Glad it never got passed on in my jeans.
Music & dancing must be a winner when you’re down. Like singing
carols at the top of your voice in the kitchen through these
long winter nights.
On stage is beautiful, the most peaceful place on Earth.
The kick drum is more than a dealer, it’s my minister, my healer.
Ego & all it’s dogs, run away when the kick drum drops.
Who built this fence? Who left this mark? Where are they now?