(2015)
Dutch tears (or Prince Rupert's drops) are an interesting curiosity. Quenched drops of molten glass, they can be hit with a hammer, but snap the top off them and they explode in shards of glass due to the release of forces locked inside.
#GlassRelationship #Love
It’s three in the morning and my v… I see life as a stage and the danc… The sets and the clothes are desig… Or we’d crawl on our bellies and e… Life is a dance,
There, in glistening half-light a spider feels the dawn languid flies forget they’re born life loses a fight A newly unfurled a petal
We dream of nothing sleepwalk to the end speak to no-one only pretend In front of my eyes is a picture
For one endless song they dance. Shoes, clothes, kicked off to the night
“All aboard”, the Captain cries music to my ears Up the fog soaked ramp the ocean mist already claims me into the wooden creaks
Dress them in factory grey and shi… add a splash of colour to stop the… Introduce drip-fed thoughts and th… Teach them to ignore their mind an… Stay inside when it rains, cos it’…
You are just a rock stopped, still, avoided as time passes and mocks, with looking-back laughs... ...and you sink, forgotten
We travelled back to old Italia wearing borrowed shoes and a ten g… tipped the driver for driving all… through the driving rain Oh - it poured alright
Run. Until your legs disown you and when you stop hold on to the thunder of your bei… fight through the chocking air,
Those thunderous Gods whipping cauliflower petticoats sk… a shoes-off call to their pregnant… gaining weight against the light Insect flights, crackle rumble,
I sailed away to cast my fate, on the shores of Catalina, but after toiling thousands of mil… I find the grass is much less gree… All the wine in wine country,
Let the children sleep, so the world is eroded before our eyes alone by the anger, famine, bomb and war… of the bean-counting machines.
I sent you a form, you sent it back, not enough paperwork, the wrong kind of tax. I send you a message,
The page was waiting like the dark liquid poured itself luminous in the night-time dim orange shed, orange head full of unburnt connections
Just don’t forget me, I’ll do anything, cover myself in jelly, If it’ll keep me on your telly. I won’t talk about babies in bunke…