New year, new track.

It takes two to tango, and two to ascend to the heights of godhead.

Such is the way of the dance of dances, for which no words ever suffice.

Sometimes one gets a wild hair after almost thirty years, and goes to town.

There is ever a method to the silence in the madness.

The voice in the silence never led me astray.

In memory of a dear departing friend from the market, on the discontinuing of the venerable Boss RE-20 Space Echo, which has for a decade now served to lessen the wear and tear on my actual vintage unit substantially.

There is nothing but this in the blank abyss.

There are things which cannot be said, as the blackness sets in.

I have seen beyond her milky ways.

Only death and heritage remain.

Shock and awe, thumping with the helicopter blight.

Control in anti-form; a duet for things beyond words.