V1:
Roky Erickson paints a Rorschach masterpiece using only his left hand.
Sweet Nico learns to play fuzz guitar on the harmonium while wearing dark sunglasses.
The lines are heavily blurred between the decay of peace and the melody of war.
The rivers are overflowing with dormant nightmares and sunshine dreamscapes.
Dick Dale and Link Wray play chess on the cliffs of Del Mar
At the same time, a small remnant of Skylab still orbits in the darkening horizon view.
What was that familiar sound? Oh yes, it's the orchestra of deaf crickets playing a dissonant triad.
All while the reverb springs dance in the seductive moonlight shadow.

V2:
The ultimate question is, am I a Montague or am I a Capulet? I believed I would always answer neither.
What would Kerouac think of my brand new boots? I polished them using pure cynicism.
There is a chamber at the top of the hill with a bright light beaming through the transparent door.
As I enter, the cherubs attack me as if I were a lost soul seeking solace.
Glenn Miller conducts In The Mood alongside the ghosts of my grandparents sipping Merlot by the lake.
A limousine arrives carrying the contents of what once were the ashes of Leonard Cohen's first love.
It began raining in the desert, and I took refuge under a lonely spineless monitor wearing nothing but a news boy hat.
All while the reverb springs dance in the seductive moonlight shadow.

V3:
How in the world did I receive these inputs and outputs? Was it a pipeline to the soul? Only time will tell.
I once asked St. Francis if the hides of our times were the inspiration for the future. He only responded with silence.
Have you ever had a conversation with a speeding Aston Martin on the Autobahn? It was like an exotic kiss from Brigitte Bardot.
The interior walls are lined with Mondrian patterns and giant Warhol prints accentuate the vibrant feeling of uncertainty.
If you continue on the path of utmost concurrence, you will find that it is always crystalline on the opposite side of the sky.
Johnny Thunders teases his hair and sings love songs to the cold cold audience of misplaced memories. A most frequent occasion in these parts.
Always leaning on the sides of consciousness and psychosis, a trusty feline will assist the difficult choices of the moment.
All while the reverb springs dance in the seductive moonlight shadow.

V4:
I arrived on occasion to the observatory to entertain the idea of witnessing a collapse of the white dwarf.
It was an overwhelming experience, but I had Brian Jones whispering messages of Pythagorean theorems in my ear.
A band of blind messengers played chopsticks on the cerebellum during the times of no spoken word or sound.
The presentation was brief, but it implied the understanding of progress drowning in the rings of the dusty Oort cloud.
The Id thinks he has control but he is overshadowed by succulent desires for lush textures and foggy valleys.
Man was he mistaken. I packed my bags and headed east only to find that the world was round and I was surprisingly existing in the West.
A wise man once told me that I should allow mankind to strike me in the face, I did embrace that notion, and it was painful.
All while the reverb springs dance in the seductive moonlight shadow.

V5:
When I put the mystic shades over my eyes, the world became a better place. That's right, again, the world became a better place.
I no longer know my name, only monikers, and that's ok, because together, we are all one inside of the other inside of the other.
Sometimes I find myself hugging a vintage Bonneville in the back country of Donegal as my ancestors throw stones and mock my peculiar existence.
The personification of HAL 9000 is what governs the ebb and flow of the tides of our lives. No, I will not open the doors.
As I was leaving the womb and entering the world, the distant sounds of Patsy Cline played on an old transistor radio overpowering the filth of the disco movement. The fluorescent lights left scars.
Butterfly nets are being used to gather hydration from the humid mists rising from the illustrious fountain of youth. I slowly sip and embrace the moment, only to find my cup is empty.
I tapped my foot along with the rhythm of the cicadas. It allowed me to see from their eyes. I was collectively surprised, and shocked to know the truth.
All while the reverb springs dance in the seductive moonlight shadow.

V6:
As the days get longer and the time becomes a cautious haze, I play three chords and hum the lines to folk songs of the future.
Reed and Morrison, Sterling that is, discuss the ostrich and the dissolution of the sanctity of my eponymous existence in all periods of time.
The scratchy reel to reel film along with the hiss of worn magnetic tape, add character to my ailing senses.
Clarity is not what it sought or desired. I actually despise it, if I were to be honest. Who needs to live with that much objectivity?
When I am approaching the end, I don't have a fear or care. I just drop the needle on the post-acetate canyons of Arthur Lee and Love and let myself get lost in the heavenly tones of memory.
The warmth takes over and I no longer have to ascend or descend. I am one with one.
Yes, I am one with one. I am one with one. I am one with one.
All while the reverb springs dance in the seductive moonlight shadow.