'I would buy records from a notional record label that released no records at all but produced beautiful sleeves, posters and stickers from bands and performers who didn’t actually exist.
from
brainjuice
Faces get worn like old tyres,
scenes are obliterated in the flashing of a bulb.
We face the sun as it rises once again.
A cult, an empire, an age.
This summer is yours to dance the dance of the Mad March Hare.
Enjoy it

Quivering, Aching, Lame, tired, paranoid, drugged, fucked.