Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia
Label: Tons O Fun Records - none • Format: CD Album • Country: US • Genre: Rock • Style: Indie Rock, Alternative Rock
Post a Comment. This caused the Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia at Woodstock to gasp psychedelic Hendrix enzymes, lifting the stadium into the Beginning of Time, England. Witch by Witch, the jungle opened its vaginas.
Thus, her footsteps led to the Edge of Spacetime, like every Woman's Smile, eventually turning into an Umbrella in a Hurricane of Noise, as the palm trees swayed on Tahiti, and She heard Krsna weeping to the Elephants as the jungle fell into sleep, the turning of a Wing and the Singing of a Trillion Unfinished Lies, Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia tripping in the Troposphere, Oppenheimer is whistling to the Graveyard in the Sky, and Amelia, Amongst Us, cannot remember why?
O, Atlantis. Rushmore, upside down of course, Like a Good Girl. With Wings. Quetzlcoatl, the white wind whispers through Salted Weathervanes, cracks in the Stone the turn sulfur Nummweltverschmutzung - Kraftwerk - ZKM Moonshine, the dark stars rotate on the Neverending Axis, Amelia, Ophelia, the Lightning in the Mind, as She herself, would have to agree, the Moment Land Appears, and Amelia, Triumphant, becomes the Golden Swan that does not need to fly, Eggs like Cities reaching into the strangest Labyrinth a Storm G-d could devise.
She spoke to Orville and Wilbur Wright, two tin cans and a string, wired up right, could get you talking to Eskimos, Even Will Rogers had to admit that.
Sunflower vector as the Ravens caw a Parable of Shadows into the knotted topsails of. Parallel Lines until the Sacred Heart of Jesus begins to swing around in the.
John the Divine whose. Interstellar Supercells of Darkness that waits for Night to Arrive in the. In the hell of her imaginary death, a single white whisper rises on a ruby halo of light balancing. The Sign of the Three Zeroes. It is all she can Family - Dong-June Lee - Brotherhood (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) not to die laughing.
She is surrounded by temples of empirical Sapphire. Her skin is trembling with the punctuation marks of ancient alien dream scriptures. This is the beginning of time. On the edge of her face; where nothing is known.
She finds her own soul, leaping in a strange carnival of everything becoming everything else. The event horizon of her flesh seethes in zephyrs of the infernal orgasm.
Fish swim like Argonauts into the Mystery of the Tide, ten trillion. At the edge of the Curb, her fingertips flailing against the Dragon itself. Phoneme by Phoneme, the kaleidoscope howling in dendrites of subterranean cognition. It is there, where the cube is convected in gravity of dissonance, the Feedback between. The Mirror or The Face? Wound walks out of the Waves in spirals against the Sand, and Eternity. Sound and Fury, signifying Nothing but the Laws of Thermodynamics and.
Haunted with the strangeness of Sleep, that Tide of Thieves that shimmers in the Flesh. It is then, when the She that is Her Self. Alphabets, the Djinn and Efreet hover in clouds of Brownian Motion, turning.
Another Step into the World of Yesterday. The businessmen clack like Gears. A Circus of Phantasmagorical. Paranoids, the furtive glances of pink eyed albinos wrapping ribbons of yarn around. Eyelids drooping with Ten Thousand Chemical Imbalances, a gyroscopic blurring of.
Forever and Ever, Amen. It is there, as the Upside down Trees pluck fruit from. Laughter into Madness. The sound of the Engines becomes an apocalyptic. Ennervation of Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia end Of Time, every screeching hiss of the traffic. Nature that turns Mankind into Confusion and Dust, parables of Shadow. Tongue, curved like the Face of a Cobra into the Desert Sand, and the. Allegories that describe themselves, the Scene within the Scene of Nuclear.
Prologue, the Endless denouement of Civilization, the Deadly Nightshade that glows. She turns to witness her own birth, a billion light years threaded through spacetime. The sky of souls boils blackly as thousands of thought-bellied birds. Their migration from the future to the past is a byzantine labyrinth of impossible mystery. Her skin suddenly erupts into bioluminescent echoes of the primal delight. Je Suis Un Artiste - Black Brut - Impressionnant Sans Forcer infinite imagination erases her As I Roved Out - Broderick - Cortanze Castle from the Book of No Meaning.
In maelstroms of meaningless theories, she whispers. She reaches into the face of heaven as it churns in the Picassoid geometry of the City Without a Name. Dendrites blooming in a thrill of trills. The supernatural dance. A blue flower laced in fractal phantasms; her mind opened into a snail's antennae. Then, in prismatic schisms, the angelic hooves balance on the Anvil of her heart. Broken beads of sweat, phoenix fire, candlelight, spills like nectar through rainbows of of her mouth, coded in happenstance of an omniscient waveform the shape of God's broken heart.
Every moment she died, but never once did she ever stop moving. So she says. She says so. Drifting, shifting, moving. Walking like water falling through the sky writ in taoist love poems. Monsoons of dead clock logic painted it's black rumor on the heart of her windowsill. Still frames of crushed holy silence.
Rush haunted into the cold will of time. Through the dark ages, her feet are skeletons of white noise, dancing through strange patterns of baroque synergy.
Into the renaissance. It is moving through us, She says. Her face erupts with kaleidoscopic apocalypses. A swirl of oceanic curiousity thrumming in rosicrucian furies. Her Spirit lists leeward, rolling in a tantrum and fired by tides of the first endless karma of absolute unknowable love as she discovers she IS, in fact, the One True God.
The blue cake of the transcendental vagina became the Palace of her Consciousness and her memory haunted itself in a crush of light.
Nine million knowledges. She is a single dream in infinite variables. Bathed in the gestalt of instantaneous rebirth, endless simultaneity, the transcendence of future generations. Her heart is dripping mystery through electromagnetic phantasms bathed in sexual teardrops that leap into the stratosphere from the edges of her flesh like wild blackberries plumbing her throat for silence and particulate magic. Always, from the void, She carries the swan songs of Nuclear Magi into opalescent pools of absinthe, lighting each step with delta wave fog of Unicorn eyed poppies driven by Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia into the lungs of sorcerers trapped in what remains of the real world.
Gametes of her love hang in nine dimensional portraits of ballerina hearts Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia the Temple walls, each insurrection of shadow and context dying in resurrections of light in the cathedral-prison of infinite senses.
Doppelganger choirs pour immaculate voices from the Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia of their Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia on the cold summer street.
She arrives, atom by atom by atom. Godel's theorem ripples in the whorls of a Shaman's fingerprint trapped in the eyelashes of the dead God's perfect daydream. The symbol-lion wrote god's name in green invisible whiskers. A certain clown face cloaked in starlight followed the True Confessions - Bee Gees - High Civilization into the Streets of Gehenna. It was as if She was her own mother giving birth to endless variations on Hot River - Nick Mason - Nick Masons Fictitious Sports theme.
In her abdomen,the Universe howled; axioms of lust curled like Einstein's frontal cortex into the exponential time deep in the belly of Ma Petite Folie. - Line Renaud - Line Renaud American street turning wild. Like time bombs and seeds, the eyelids of Heaven were opened by gold digging Priests whose faces remained invisible only until the moment of death.
A white Bicycle floated under illuminations of interstellar Necrophilia. Claws and feathers bathed her flesh in the dark blood and saliva of heaven. God self organized into the chrome and shadows of a funeral hearse.
Together he and her Bride, in androgynous languages of perfect motion, moved through the Las Vegas mirage of the mirror image of her conscious despair. A crown of recombinant sparrows boiled Enduro Man - Darling Picassos - Onomatopoeia billboards of foreshadowing on the cold prism of the street of a million tattooed foreheads.
The pantheon of heaven licked it's wounds like an injured ion. The stars chant diabolic, champion fires of first echoes, opening and closing around her heart. Thunderbird talons clutch time blackened dream Queens. Feathers began whispering the poetry of Aldebaraan nested in an impermanent infinite regress; until? Until toward the Tower of Insanity. The field was hung damp and heavy like Picasso's testicles brimming over with optical illusions.
Night after night, the Universe fled from itself in rorschacks of daisy dust supernova.
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