The Spectator Is A Dying Animal.

Time To Live, Time To Lie, Time To Laugh, And Time To Die. Take It Easy Baby. Take It As It Comes.

We Hide Ourselves In Our Music To Reveal Ourselves

In The Holy Solipsism Of The Young Now I Can't Walk Thru A City Street W/out Eying Each Single Pedestrian. I Feel Thier Vibe Thru My Skin, The Hair On My Neck --- It Rises.

I See Myself As An Intelligent, Sensitive Human, With The Soul Of A Clown Which Forces Me To Blow It At The Most Important Moments.

We Are Content In The 'given' In Sensation's Quest. We Have Been Metamorphosised From A Mad Body Dancing On Hillsides To A Pair Of Eyes Staring In The Dark.