The reality virus had escaped, and spread like wild lice.
Petrifying forests, Paralysing parasites, concreting towns
And solidifying cities.
We were trapped under the mousetrap gaze of its TV Eye.
Our brains squirmed and swarmed, uncoiled.
The final migration of the imagination was here,
And fantasy was about to breathe its last gasp,
Amongst our dying and diseased dreams.
[Poem by Bill Boethius - that feeling we have when coming out of a dream...]
Bill Boethius: guitars, bass, synth
This track was tagged with the following keywords: Experimental.
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