She was the trip beside the pill bottle. Slow coursing mirrors of prophetic snow. Light metal on the sidewalk of antiquity, and the day-light hymn of obligation, would I ever find the right excuse?
She was the trip beneath the counter Slow coursing amphetamine treatment. “People” all through the half of day in this bus station sky, and they may have been fixtures of the surroundings but I remember the words she didn't say.
“A transcription of the closest thing JC Luff will ever do to “Free-Style”. The statement was made in 2013. I recited this stuff off the top of my head with a glass of wine and a friend on the sax. I did some post recording tweaks, but the integrity of the session remains intact.”