Tag Archives: unwound

sensoria – cabaret voltaire


His head is not his memory. Visions coming, one, two, three. Trickle up, trickle down. Wearily, we come unwound. In hard times, hard thrills.   His head is not his memory. Visions coming, one, two, three. Trickle up, trickle down. Wearily, … Continue reading

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