Dogsights
So, yeah… A-Dogs got the good love to share. Peace be unto you and all that smack. No shoes, no shirt, no problem. Skin beat all. Just a naked exuberance or an effervescent gleam of pubic hair, one more shot for the road, and we got compliance, if you catch my drift.
Friends of the faithful, break out of that drag. It's the stairs that bring you down. Music don't have to be the quick flick of a wrist, send my ears to writhing one last time, send me on my merry way, oh… I remember that, wasn't that…
There was a time, back in the day of daily occurrences, when you had in your hands a piece of beat that made you want to hear it again and again, that made you want to hit that little rewind button and scream out of your car windows as you slid sweetly down the highway, that made you want to stay in this place a little bit longer, and suck up as much time as you could.
It slowed us down. Now we got just bang bang, look over here, check out this freeing sense of momentary lapse I just uncovered.
I miss the missing, no lie. Miss knowing the words to songs and not just getting the easy me-low-dee.
Ain't inferring that all this offering of Dognoise will change your mind 'bout things. Far from it. We're too far gone to enjoy a mile in favor of a minute. We just are poor lil' scooters holding out our hands and grasping for a little bit of air. Just trying to make a few waves in the puddle. Makin' noise for girls and boys and tottering off into the void, like slang that doesn't take its proper place in the scheme of things, and then has the honor of becoming a quaint little groovy thing to say in times of silent conversation.
Don't that beat all.
Power to the tadpoles. Grieve the ghosts. Anchor's away and all the blast that comes with it.
Z.
Friends of the faithful, break out of that drag. It's the stairs that bring you down. Music don't have to be the quick flick of a wrist, send my ears to writhing one last time, send me on my merry way, oh… I remember that, wasn't that…
There was a time, back in the day of daily occurrences, when you had in your hands a piece of beat that made you want to hear it again and again, that made you want to hit that little rewind button and scream out of your car windows as you slid sweetly down the highway, that made you want to stay in this place a little bit longer, and suck up as much time as you could.
It slowed us down. Now we got just bang bang, look over here, check out this freeing sense of momentary lapse I just uncovered.
I miss the missing, no lie. Miss knowing the words to songs and not just getting the easy me-low-dee.
Ain't inferring that all this offering of Dognoise will change your mind 'bout things. Far from it. We're too far gone to enjoy a mile in favor of a minute. We just are poor lil' scooters holding out our hands and grasping for a little bit of air. Just trying to make a few waves in the puddle. Makin' noise for girls and boys and tottering off into the void, like slang that doesn't take its proper place in the scheme of things, and then has the honor of becoming a quaint little groovy thing to say in times of silent conversation.
Don't that beat all.
Power to the tadpoles. Grieve the ghosts. Anchor's away and all the blast that comes with it.
Z.

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