they fly from behind electric gates.
I have journeyed this week on tales of woes,my mind has boxed itself inside a rubber corset pulled so tight helium breath lavishes flight up to the greek gods, found pictured underneath Coco-cola tins,the red and white logo floats on every square yard of turf trod.
Hawkwind.." Silver Machine " haunts inside saddle bags across the desert in company with a horse with no name.
