early morning panic. do they know what i mean, have they discovered
i am the imposter, the one that is bad, rubbish while all the while
others behold a goodly mental state.
early morning misunderstanding pales as the carpenter comes, uses complementary
woods from the sycamore tree. shows me his teeth, is sharp this saw, he says.
the lines get longer here with breaks and pauses, slight stops to breath.
panic subsides.we have coffee with carrots, imagining another world outside with planes
and processions. shadowed world glows a brighter good as they pass in time. it is an
jerry goldsmith. track six.