The Swill, the Theory
Explosive strangeness jolts its way into the atmosphere of a rainy Monday only to find a dirty dime next to the shoe of decadence. A scruff mark defines a story, a tale saved from some other time. The empty, lonely feelings try to drive away the comfort, the glory of grooving to an Al Green song. Something must impress impressions when nothing else is left to impress. But, turn the other mind to the side one prefers. Fickle and pander towards a new meaning of trust. Take this swill with this theory and dig it deep into dust.
- gypsy george.
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