A Man and His Song

W̸̴̡̢͉͔̠͎̹͓̮̝͓̝̫ͫ̍̊̈̿ͩ̾͗̓̑͟W̴̪͓̪̭͕̭͚͛ͮ̓̌͐͌͘͞ͅ

"Lately, when...
"I knew, on the land I chanted: a word with feet, one hatching another and another and another,
and hatches into earth, into another's boat; remember that tree". And then, in that same shade, a raven
with an eagle's wing sometimes staggered and said, as it kept going as Ä's you, revealing wonders (this is a grand slide of the wretched):
"Born in a place where the land, step by step, kneels into paths, paths into roads & shades, and roads then roads: "eat honey as your work", as the beginning roughens and plays to sleep anew; the moon dirty tells blue, red, 'they are green!' light."
So, as it is, that only the past and the yet-to-come may be, equally forward-gliding, stripped bare essentiality, not fleeing nor soon to be revealed from beneath, but that farther-off ancient white, as well as now, except not quite yet, because your words begin to knowingly answer only at the dawn of the ever-beginning, still lingering in the shadow of the last-minute A. Its suddenness, so tangibly clinging to experience, appears with all its bases thoroughly self-sown, that developing, leaking wake drawn in the water; come, take from it your own.
Black soil pours feet, but the beginning of the chapter giver lets it be known that from the flowers of the land, a pine has become snags, backwoods, lights, splits, pieces, and (at least in the beginning) numbers to embroider the cover in mockery: and not everything at once, right from the first time, let alone perhaps in the end after all, when nevertheless the fore- and hindpaws, at your command, you yourself decide your truths to be, your assumptions, your catches...


W̸̴̴̨̢̢̨̛̘͇̰̬̞̖̘̙̟̦̘͔̪͉̪̔̒͋́̅͒̽ͭ̄̀͌͐̍̎̐̿̂́̔ͭ̓͛͘͟W̧̢̩͓̱̥̜̝̼̫̽ͪ̇̎ͫ̑̓ͥ̿ͥ̓̕͢ͅͅŴ̵̸̸̧̨̤̩̰̜̠̺̮̫̖͕̪͕͙̒ͨ̀́̏ͮ͒͗ͥ͜͟͠



W͇_̲̜͔̰̜͚͇ͪ̓͠W̸̤ͮ͂̈̓W̴̸͇̫̤̑͑ͦ͢

W̸̴̡̢͉͔̠͎̹͓̮̝͓̝̫ͫ̍̊̈̿ͩ̾͗̓̑͟W̴̪͓̪̭͕̭͚͛ͮ̓̌͐͌͘͞ͅŴ̵̸̸̧̨̤̩̰̜̠̺̮̫̖͕̪͕͙̒ͨ̀́̏ͮ͒͗ͥ͜͟͠

@]≈£$§| Œ˝√Ü˘¬“˝RBUnintgent undable sdsıü¸˛‘≠ √¸‘≈@ e

New tracks tagged #Step Dance