Psyche's Museat THE FEAST
folk rockHyperLink's_Muse.jpg
song created                                

Friday, December 23, 2016 12:12:48 AM
song updated                               

Friday, March 10, 2017 1:09:28 PM
stations playing this song              
I Like Strange. ~M~
Mystery Radio
Finnegans Wake


OUR MUSICATING! (or... improvisating!)


Everything inside us comes under our shadow. We can incorporate all things unto us by attaching and receiving them through our understanding. We can “make them fit” and become “acceptable”, ”palatable”, “digestible”, etc... While “feeding” thusly upon these things, we are at one and the same time both feeding AND filling these “things”(giving them life, value, merit... through our justification of their now being incorporated unto ourselves)... and we do this “alone”, within ourselves... at this “feast”. -M-
Inside the Soul of Man
Stands a Lonely Shadow Syndrome
All Images Selflessly Fall at His Feet
He Fills Their Eyes with His Vision
He Feeds these Starving Beasts
...All Alone
...At The Feast
Song Comments

Mystery Radio
Interesting combination of cool pro happening jazzy bass line which is crazy good, and a string instrument, violin and vocal in a very minimalist way. intriguing and mysterious. a story inside a story

Finnegans Wake
What then agentlike brought about that tragoady thundersday this municipal sin business? Our cubehouse still rocks as earwitness to the thunder of his arafatas but we hear also through successive ages that shebby choruysh of unkalified muzzlenimiissilehims that would blackguardise the whitestone ever hurtleturtled out of heaven. Stay us wherefore in our search for tighteousness, O Sus-tainer, what time we rise and when we take up to toothmick and before we lump down upown our leatherbed and in the night and at the fading of the stars! For a nod to the nabir is better than wink to the wabsanti. Otherways wesways like that provost scoffing bedoueen the jebel and the jpysian sea. Cropherb the crunch-bracken shall decide. Then we’ll know if the feast is a flyday. She has a gift of seek on site and she allcasually ansars helpers, the dreamydeary. Heed! Heed! It may half been a missfired brick, as some say, or it mought have been due to a collupsus of his back promises, as others looked at it. (There extand by now one thou-sand and one stories, all told, of the same).

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