This is rejected (by jenny) a recording by a band called softcheeze.

Rejected (Rip Off Version)

Death (Spanky The Snail)

A brooding look at nothing real at the time.

Her paint burns with light
When her hair is filled
with bleach,
on a winter's afternoon.

She is dripping expense
every time I see her,
Some new gold leaves
draped around her pale neck.

Maybe she is rich like Paris,
Or chic like gold money.

She winks to me and says
She doesn't like anyone,
anyone before now...

Psychological.
There is no one there for her.

Maybe she is poor like Gandhi,
or chic like Coco Chanel.

Oh Brianna,
Oh Oh Brianna.
Where are you going?
where do you want to be?

Oh oh Brianna

0307M

A quite long & somewhat monotonous study on the state of living in the now. If you stick with it it may reward you.

Glimpse of the other through the vale.

Desk job reaction, with the time available, trying to a manifest a transcendental creation, crappy recording, phone goes off halfway through. But the tune, I believe, speaks for itself.

I wish I could see u there.
In the golden void
A furry wall, is but a fleeting moment
as I await the sun to stop drinking
Amongst your refer, is all I need.
I can't hold you up now
My actions (or mistakes) are dissolving (or come down upon) me like acid rain.
The birds they suddenly (or quickly) fly away with any (or the slightest) detection (or indication) of (my) shame.
Never to be seen again. 
Which is some kind of farce
No sound of smashing glass
It is but a projection of the dou
Oh liberty.

CHAOS FREQUENCY

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