I took a line from a book and twisted it around my brain hoping to clarify these obscure sequences that have no order that just congragate under the soil of your nails fabricating a forgotten plot to freedom, a plight in the hour of celebration under the nights sun. Bathe my sweet in the oils of desire, join the frayed ends of life's consequences, of times forgotten song whispered in tomorrow's breeze. Forget reality and her breeding in the basements of America, forget reason, embrace the sanity of the insane. Come to the new grass and lay bleeding for time, for the Lost eyes of instinct. Gather the creatures of yesterday and slaughter the heros of today in a ritualistic offering to no one. Bring the gods they all so cherish, let them speak their defense to the defenseless, let them plea bargain their right to rule my will, my sight, my freedom in the universal sorrow of weeping souls bleeding slow deaths in our sheltered concubine.