Third Wave Francine sticks her hand in the honeypot. The inevitable dead end of a fully immersive, interactive video game for gluttons. Metainsanity breeding metainsanity. We are driving with corroded myopic blinders and crashing into the trees. The trees are an emanating a glowing life force. Our ghosts intertwine and offer a myriad of a myriad of paths to the hungry travelers of earth wind air fire. God and the Devil are always dancing in the cool fog of evening. Burnt smoke, burnt smoke, ashes and fire from a twilight country rodeo. Broken rusted ferris wheels always hide a phantom curse. THird Wave Sally has that curse in full form--always putting the fire to demons, yet blind to her own demons. Original sin, original zen. It was both Native American and Biblical. I saw Shiva in the smoke journey too. Two wolves were my spirit animal. A good one and a bad one. I asked them "Which one wins?" They replied "The one you feed." Then they splintered into a million wolves, a million directions. Gone babylonian. A friend says I'm chaotic neutral. She is really into astrology.
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Record label: Telestic Records https://telesticrecords.bandcamp.com/