Experimental Bill Boethius
Accost The Sacred

Accost the Sacred

There are places so sacred,
That even the gods won’t go.

There are no fences around them,
But these places are impenetrable,
Like virgin forests and undiscovered
Jungles.
Where all incomers will get lost.
Never to return.

Only a few yearn to enter.
They tremble with a cold lust,
Breathlessly aching to accost
The hitherto unfingered altar.

A strange forest of sounds, taking in quite a gamut of guitars from acoustic to electric.
Bill Boethius, guitars, bass