Turbulence. We have moved from four jackets for four goalposts to portraits of corporates, pressed against glass and neatly contained. In the 1960’s…

Turbulence. We have moved from four jackets for four goalposts to portraits of corporates, pressed against glass and neatly contained. In the 1960’s…
The staggering genius of ordinary lives
Not a thorn between them
You run to catch up with the sun
But she is sinking as she swings
To and fro, on a piece of frayed rope
Until she is lost, in a relative way
You are older, older than wishing time away
Along with all her endearments, frittering
And wasting hours in an offhand style
Collapsed on a wooden bench
We took a second to search for nostalgia
Taking more than a fallen age to come
A name is a name, why tinker with it
Music Credit: Monolog Rockstars – The Bad Wake