White Summer/Black Mountainside. AKA Jimmy Page blowing your fucking mind for 9 minutes.
well;
White Summer/Black Mountainside. AKA Jimmy Page blowing your fucking mind for 9 minutes.
well;
“i would but i’m busy.”
The car is on fire, and there’s no driver at the wheel
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
And a dark wind blows .
The government is corrupt
And we’re on so many drugs,
With the radio on and the curtains drawn .
We’re trapped in the belly of this horrible machine
And the machine is bleeding to death
The sun has fallen down
And the billboards are all leering
And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles.
It went like this:
The buildings tumbled in on themselves
Mothers clutching babies
Picked through the rubble
And pulled out their hair
The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted metal stretching upwards
Everything washed in a thin orange haze .
I said, “Kiss me, you’re beautiful -
These are truly the last days” .
You grabbed my hand
And we fell into it
Like a daydream
Or a fever
We woke up one morning and fell a little further down
For sure it’s the valley of death
I open up my wallet
And it’s full of blood.
It is difficult to live without opium after having known it because it is difficult, after knowing opium, to take earth seriously. And unless one is a saint, it is difficult to live without taking earth seriously.
Four fourty- three am. Train has passed by 17 times, but I stopped counting. Should of been in the shower 12 passes ago. ( “big day”) Seventeen times. 17. Milla Jovovich was born on the 17th. So was Joseph Henry..Willard Frank Libby, Carlo Little. Seventeen.. one plus seven equals eight. Thats one more day in the week. An eighth day. An extra 24 hours. Perhaps they’d let me name it. I would call it “Oneday”. It would be between Thursday and Friday. And as a result, everything would become a slither more true. Just a slither. Because then, when people asked you things like.. “When are you coming back?” - or- ”When will i see you again?” You could just respond, “Oneday”, and it wouldn’t feel so bad. No grand perpetuation. Nothing false. Nothing contrived out of obligation. In fact, it would mean nothing at all, except just another day in the week. Then maybe, everyone could stop waiting around on each other, forever.