Some words can’t even be sung twice. Cowards.
View high resolution
On my roof,
There is a dancing horse on my roof.
Singing songs all along,
tongue sung songs.
Freedom in gallop,
banjos and bouquets.
Flower petals from clouds,
under hooves.
Lavender, tulip, roses,
under hooves.
Twins in a womb,
gypsy music.
Soft daggers downpour
over our soft hearts,
lavender hearts,
sleep as calm hearts.
It is everyone’s breathing
strumming along.
This snowflake cover,
there is freedom in that gallop.
There is a dancing horse on my roof,
dancing horse on my roof.
The New Idea Society record comes out next week. It should really push these album sales numbers up!
This week’s overall national album sales were the lowest ever in Soundscan history, with only 4.95 million records sold — period. That means that, since its release, AC/DC’s Back In Black has sold over four times as many copies as every other album ever recorded by every artist ever who sold an album in America last week. It also means that if this were to have happened ten years ago, when ‘N SYNC’s No Strings Attached debuted at number 1 with 2.4 million copies sold, every other album ever recorded by every artist ever would have only sold a cumulative 2.55 million copies between them.
But remember when home-taping was killing the record industry? Yeah, that was cute.
Elevators.
Ticks, leeches, any snake.
Another Starbucks anywhere in NYC.
More American Apparel Ads.
Ghosts (full disclosure I am slightly afraid of ghosts).
Soviet army invading my small Colorado town as described in the 1984 classic movie Red Dawn. (full disclosure I never lived in Colorado).
Leprechauns.
More condominiums in Brooklyn.
The Billionaire to Thousandaire ratio in New York City.
The Billionaire to Hundredaire ratio in New York City.
Mosquitoes.
This paranoid fantasy to scare people.
Real Problems.
I never thought this hope would end.
While fireflies burn in my heart, with a heat of heaven.
Iradell sings like a sieve in the pouring rain,
Breaking into pieces things she’ll put together again,
Sunk into the soil, known yet told to pretend.
A spoon left next to an hourglass of empty sand.
She broke through the ice to become a seamless malcontent,
String fell from the sky and she seemed like she welcomed it.
Whatever the rainbow meant it was gone by the suns decent.
Whenever her fingers moved someone felt it.
On this last day she rose like the phoenix did,
Her teeth were made of hair and the fire was our sustenance,
The hills did collapse and the valley did rise again,
The colors were all quiet and the tired were arisen.
Iradell
