"Can't you hear those cavalry drums hijacking your equilibrium? Midnight hags in the mausoleum where the pixilated doctors moan, carnivores in the Kowloon night, breathing freon by the candlelight, Coquettes bitch slap you so polite till you thank them for the tea and sympathy.

I want to defy, the logic of all sex laws, let the handcuffs slip off your wrists, I'll let you be my chaperone at the halfway home, I'm a full grown man but I'm not afraid to cry

Neptune's lips taste like fermented wine, Perfumed blokes on the Ginza line, Running buck wild like a concubine, who's mother never held her hand,
Brief encounters in Mercedes Benz, wearing hepatitis contact lens, bed and breakfast getaway weekends with Sports Illustrated moms.

I want to defy The logic of all sex laws, let the handcuffs slip off your wrists, I'll let you be my chaperone, at the halfway home, I'm a full grown man but I'm not afraid to cry"---Beck, "Sexxlaws"

I took an online e-mode test once to find out who my inner rock star was at the insistance of my friends, apparently, I was Beck and I didn't see it at the time but now I do. My girlfriend left me before the Sea Change album came out, just like Beck's did before he wrote Sea Change and it really conveyed how I felt at the time. But before I drowned, I was living the golden age. And I sounded like the Beck of "Sexxlaws". My friend, Brian who used to play guitar with me and my brother would see me back when I was going through the downward spiral and wonder why? "You're the life of the party, man" he'd try to remind me. But as far as I was concerned, this party needed to get higher, and the perfect drug has long since left my veins. I guess I'm doing fine.

"Put your hands on the wheel, let the golden age begin, let the window down, feel the moonlight on your skin, let the desert wind cool your aching head,
Let the weight of the world drift away instead, these day I barely get by, I don't even try,

It's a treacherous road with a desolated view, there's distant lights but here they're far and few, and the sun don't shine even when its day, you gotta drive all night just to feel like you're OK, these days I barely get by, I don't even try"---Beck, "The Golden Age"

I don't know what I'm doing here but for everything there is a season. I'm not sure if I've found mine, but I can feel it coming. I hope I will be perceptive enough to pick up on obvious signs, but more importantly, to do something about them. A body in motion stays in motion. A body at rest stays at rest. But you don't have to be Isaac Newton or get hit on the head by a falling apple to realize that no motion can be achieved if the body stays at rest. Not so much that it can't be achieved in as much as it would take a lot more effort to get off your lazy ass. Realization is one thing, application of said theory, now that's something else. And I'm too lazy for that right now.

Words from my restless youth seems dated. Into the flood again. Same old trip I made back then. I see it wash again.

All five horizons revolved around her soul, as the earth to the sun. Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn and all I taught her was everything. I know she gave me all that she wore.

My bitter hands shade beneath the clouds of what was everything. All the pictures have all been washed in black. Tattooed, everyday.

Don't you die. I'm justified.