College-trained poets stretch that filament of dread almost to snapping and play me a psychodrama upon it. He’s tearing at the gun, in no condition to see the identically cut lines of her palms which she polishes to perfection, to fruition. “In dread shines the uninspired condition,” she hisses up in a doleful voice. He rises in a sardonic state; the sun shines down on his rottenness; music mildews like bones in the green field; she screeches out a castigation of all that’s boring.

This has been a Dream of Music: (artist) Cake Like / (record) Goodbye, So What / (label) Vapor Records/Warner

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