They still say things like, " make sure that has a tag,".and " wear your safety goggles," making chills run down my spine. I have to ram them with the blades of the fork-trucks, or they will scramble out. They dull my blades with their dull heads. They say " ooooh" and " ahhhhh" as if they are getting a massage. Those flashbacks frequent my mind alot-especially when I am ramming my co-workers into the trash compactor with the blades of the fork truck. I still have flashbacks, horrifying and spectral: of conference meetings, projectors and efficiency rporate metrics, acronymic value cards that read like a Masonic Temple's pledge.honesty, commitment, sacrifice, the dutiful worship of mercury and saltpeter also customer satisfaction. Langoustine at Poinciana's, Fjöruborðinus and Galapagos,Ĭlip clopping carriages of Vienna, Paris, Snake and starfish on Wangfujing Snack Street Mysterious energy of the monoliths of Stonehenge,ĭrifting atop Uru cat boats on Lake Titticaca,īeignets and chicory coffee at DuMonde's in the Big Easy, Put out my hand and touched the face of God.Crashing glaciers of Antarctica and Alaska The high untresspassed sanctity of space, I've topped the windswept heights with easy graceĪnd, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
My eager craft through footless halls of air. I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earthĪnd danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings Dont watch the link, its dumb, just listen.Īnd just for inspiration but not a song I add: While perhaps not exactly what your looking for, Rocket's Tail by Kate Bush is nonetheless a cool song and has David Gilmour (of Pink Floyd) on guitar, from her album 'The Sensual World'. Posted by carmicha at 8:29 AM on April 18, 2008 Oh I never thought you'd take me unawares You can touch the morning air against your wheelsĭo you have a thought for me that you can share? The sun comes up on Icarus as the night-birds sail away
The compass roads will guide you anywhere, In your jacket with the grease-stain and the tear
I suppose you never saw the landing-lights
Leave the oil-drums behind you, they won't care On the tarmac with the winter in your hairīy the empty hangar doors you stop and stare Your wings against the brush-strokes of the day
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