who would have know what suprises newmarket had to offer me. a trio of south africans, one disheartened, two exceptional pool sharks. one with a beautiful grasp of the moment… someone said “where are you now?” and he asked me that. I lose sight of the moment. I lose sight of it when I stop to think on it, on a friday night in my basement, just me and my gibson guitar. a bag of pretzels and a couple bottles of blue. my ES135 with stacked humbuckers… maybe I’ll play electric afterall.

I’m sick of this hazy theme, of chapters ending. but I’m stuck in an endless paragraph, and it just won’t happen. if you are going to fuck off, then fuck off. I want to bring a part of you with me truthfully. but if you don’t want me on your road then I’ll fly. keep you arms inside, stay in your lane, and fuck off.