Crash Colours

Plastic sugarfronts, car beetle shine. Blue nights and twillight streets. Zombie walk home, long night but good times. Run for the clouds, and expect the sun to strike triviality. Smoke surfaces on our skin, licking. Yet comfort never reached such aspiring heights, neither did the drapes lazily fly in such a beautiful way. I can't begin to forget about life as I emulate Johnny Cash.


CARTOON SHOWTIME: RHCP presents Deep Kick, or as I like to say Crash Colours of other lives.

It started when we were little kids, free spirits but already tormented by our own hands given to us by our parents.
We got together and wrote on desks and slept in laundry rooms near snowy mountains
and slipped through whatever cracks we could find.
Minds altered, we didn't falter in portraying hysterical and tragic characters in a smog filled universe.
We loved the dirty city and the journeys away from it we had not yet been or seen our friends selves chase tails round and round in downward spiral leaving trail of irretrievable vital life juice behind.
Still the brothers blood comrades partner family cuzz was impenetrable and we lived inside it laughing with no clothes and everything experimental 'till death was upon us in our face mortality and lots of things seemed futile then,
But love and music can save us, and did, while the giant grey monster grew more poisoned and volatile around us jaws clamping down and spewing ugly shit around.
Nothing is the same so we keep moving.
We keep moving.

-Red Hot Chili Peppers, Deep Kick

Déçu, je suis

Should've known. Damn it. Gotta start from scratch now.

Word to the wise: Music is much ado about nothing before and after.
Tune in next time,
Cheers and jeers!