Making new music...

How time flies...

When you're tucked away in the bush working on new music.

We'll come out for the show tomorrow night though.

by Nathan Ferraro

.A poem called lightning. Asjhjfhdj.

When it hits, you hear thunder and that's it.
Just a flash before you fall. It burns you up and you want nothing
else at all.
Now I find myself walking in the rain,
my umbrella to the sky, trying to retrace all the steps when it
first came.
Looking down, I see holes burned in the ground and
people fallen to their knees, they’re writing poems about the
refuse left to see.
There's a house and its split right down the
seam, I climb up to be in reach and as the clouds roll in, its
here I fall asleep.
I dream lightning will strike me twice.
And make my heart a sacrifice. Oh I'll wait out, through every
storm, for it to come - to love someone - how I loved her.