Everything he has ever been taught alerts him to avert that dancing f… What is it then that demands he mu… proceed towards his certain fiery… Some deep and ancient voice within

Look out there, see them, boy ? They want yer juice. They’re dry, them circlin’ desert… All they want's yer juice, boy.

Way up there on that hill of yours; that most hard-won ivory tower. Hiding there behind your perfect guise

I am awash with tears of mourning for what I thought was dead and go… as though a flood of holy water has broken through the stony dam I contrived to spare this brittle…

For those who only know oasis it must be difficult to fathom another way of life beyond the wal… amidst the shifting dunes. Those that follow gypsy trails

Who of you will follow where I’m bound to go? None that I can see. None that I can name. No-one that I know.

My father is dead, still he speaks through me; “Don’t say anything....OR ELSE!… There was plenty of “OR ELSE!” to go around.

You play your cards so well. Looks like you’ve had a lot of pra… You seem to have a thorough grasp of all the rules of the game. As you cover every angle,

My father has come to dinner; He does not knock. He is not welcome. He is dead. Yet he insists on joining me

Weep for the fallen warriors. Weep for those souls considered collateral damage. Weep for the profiteers. Weep for the deserters.

These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.

I gaze down now upon the cracked and battered shell of the fearsome fiery dragon that once held me in her sway. It’s remarkable just how frail

The storm is brewing. I smell it in the air. I am panicking. I can barely breathe. I fear this tempest

There’s a voice deep inside getting stronger every day. I cannot deny the message these urgent words proclaim. Why bother?