#086 – Moonshine (Static)
That again, with no warning sign …
Nor any noise through the grapevine,
There comes a familiar fantasy of mine.
Damp and heavy the air, in this heathen shrine.
Tip, tap… just one more step over the line,
I stumble down, struck by the Indian sign.
Icy shards sting and crawl along my spine,
Nerves overloaded and muscles sore, I whine.
This time, I wish to see the Nebraska sign!
Eventually, it all resolves, in a beautiful sine.
I take a cautious step, along the curly spline,
Then to an endless jog, on a bottle of Klein!
How dumbfoundedly do realities intertwine …
What a fool was I, thinking it benign.
Lesson learnt: Never hold cheap a glass of moonshine!
Soundtrack: Andreas Vollenweider – Down to the moon