the same song just played here the same day was yesterday.
the same stoplight told the same story at the same time last hour.
the clock is repeating itself.
repetoire of raspy rebellion seeps thru this.
choke on the ashe's of dancing round beauties grave, beautious beings be beautiful or be, just, be.
the same song won't be played today.
the stoplight will be smashed.
the clock will only be a curious wallhanging reminding us what a fucking joke linear time is.
we will be.