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  • Writer's picturerobertsavela

Traveling heavy with Boston's "Hitch A Ride"

Join the freedom club Jo-Jo with your cryptic violins. No rules, no home, openness, trip on Downers Drive, nothingness end times… Walk on water walk away confident, unique, original, and hit the rails the elusive right road on the road highways high tone hide inside the music. A million lights and fires like electric shadows in the dark to simplify the context and create devil-in-disguise beauty and artsy fine arts aesthetics and dancing goats richness. Show your inspiration, leave it all behind, ideas rolling off the tongue get in the van wheels centrifugal and grippin’ street-ninja burnouts but don’t burn out gimme a beat and continue. Head for the spaceship then to the other side never know what’s gonna be there hot or cold, poser minds-a-popping look out for thorns and arena riffs and holes and jackpots be careful.

Wanderer loaded-gun Jesus had an off night that one time, (two-week binge) sorry, no ride, no donkey indulgent harmonies sacred. Lazarus was happy though. All he wanted to do was unite the dipshit in-the-bag and the bourgeois dynamic-solo square, one love my friends bustin’ balls. Can’t imagine those dramatic feelings? You’ll know it if you do it. Do it, two minutes to midnight, do it, orchestrated but don’t forget the rich and the poor I guess that’s all there is nowadays. Lotto blotto, the final enigma stay ascetic roamer.

Join the club Jean-Jean dopamine. All freedom-run cities are the same to some point because you can’t escape yourself. Embossed history. You’re always in the moment, meditation helps 7 to 108 minutes a day and go off on the golden-eyes space cruiser who knows where we will end up laugh and cry, everything went white, all good no good or bad rock and roll salvation. No goals but chase that red-eye dream hahaha, time doesn’t wait. Great expectations. 8-tracks don’t wait either.

Crystal glass nomadic ways, glistening hooks and always moving rolling good times. The supertramp nomad needs movement and upper level smokehouse musical movement one song to the next keep ‘em coming schizophrenic order and randomness shuffle those fuckers like fluttering wings engrained in everybody since the mother’s Buddy Holly heartbeat was right next to you in the womb. Eternal repetition so repetitive classic stone-rock. Maybe hate it now but we need it to survive.

Karma? Ancestors, the butterfly effect, space travel, reincarnation, a Cadillac, a thousand bold colored lights like in a Harmony Korine movie… keep the faith.


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