Listening
to Van Morrison in Them wail it out is enough to make any man of a
sympathetic soul realize his true mortality…there are dreams that
exist in reality…the heaviness of a sweaty soul is sometimes too
much to bare…where does one man end and another begin? Sleep is
the arrogant man’s way of pissing it all away for the sake of
having the ability to piss it away…but what he pisses away we soak
up like desperate sponges and begin wringing it out in frustrated
grasps…rock and roll in the fifties and sixties said it all and
we’re still all just standing around getting caught up in the same
old bullshit and listening to the same rhetoric drag us weighted into
an oblivion of misguided perception…when do we truly achieve
freedom? When will we hear that unanimous sigh?