The role of the artist is to be that of a musical tarot deck.
Through sound we should offer reflection.
Through words we should become the opportunity to dive deep into the psyche,
To transform that which overwhelms into that which can be sung.
To cry out in harmony the praise of the evils that rack us and the heavens that won’t admit our trespasses.
Through these notes and vibrations we hack into the operating system of the fabric of the universe.
We steer it fast and loose into the night sky.
We tear hearts apart and readjust their course.
We make maps out of barking dogs.
With nothing but a truly guttural growl a man may become a great beast.
With no more than a whimper he may become like a child or a field-mouse.
Our words may carry us on the backs of history
Shuffle around our feet like the reputation of cockroaches.
When we sing we pray twice,
For we bring forth the hell inside and offer it up to the light for examination.
A lonely planet.
A single word
Long were we gone.
Never quite knowing how long we were here.
And his horse.