I've lived through these times as well as I can I've watched this world slip through my hands I hope I will find love So I'll keep moving on This life is all I've got I hope I'll see you again My beautiful friend. I've seen you before before we were born Though I don't know your name you were different then but I don't recall how you have changed you brought me your song and then we lay down to wait for a while soon love flowed through me and all became clear for a while I hope I'll see you again My beautiful friend We sat for a while Under the flying spinning skies you lifted me up, and showed me a face that I tried to hide I hope I'll see you again my beautiful friend.

this is trip delusional playing with illusion mixing up frequencies frequently facing complication in the interrelation of social inequity to daily activity separating the dust from the must complete the beat and the heat breaks me down i was a molecule I'm just an atom now. hypothesis A: every monkey every monkey every monkey is a star yeah this is triplanetary weavin words and rhymes from the confines of my mind an infinite syndicate of interconnected particles and lines projecting psychological radiation and information direct into your head, yes, feel the beat now dread. I just don't get it doesn't make any sense. look both ways before you cross the road there's more directions than you imagined at least 360 in the horizontal plane factor that by pi r cubed and your vision extends fully into the third dimension it's a minor point which allegorically speaking has a number of potentially significant implications even more so when you take into account the full range of potential sensations available to your brain what what what? what? let me explain (namya ho renge kyo) All That Is is an illusion (Maya). At the root of Maya is I am That (Tat Tvam Assi), the seed. There is nothing beyond I am That. I am That divides numerically, fractally, literally, allegorically, archetypally, intelligently, recursively and hyperdimensionally to create All That Is. In apprehending itself, nothing becomes One (The Self) and then Two (Space and Not Space) or the Root of the Feminine and Masculine principles (0/1, Earth/Sky), then Three (x y z Spacetime), The Future, the Past and the Present, the tree expands in every direction exponentially, 3*3, [the infinite, The finite and the infinitesimal], [the manifest Creator (Yaweh, Bramha), the Preserver (Christ, Krishna), and the Destroyer (Satan, Shiva)], [the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost], [Ain, Ain Soph and Ain Soph Aur], [Sat, Chit, Ananda] then 4, 4*4*4*4, 5 etc. The tree iterates combinatorially and can be percieved as a self- similar, fractal recursive infrastructure that extends infinitely from all pasts, real and imagined and all possible futures and ends simultaneously at a single point in what appears to be the present moment. The point is constructed and reconstructed continuously as the future is transformed into the past. The point is a centre of subtly interconnected consciousness fixed in n dimensional spacetime, or 'human being'. There are many human beings, many points. Play it louder yes fly higher, on the wire but don't touch the sun see your self reflected in the sky, go higher still now you're on fire yeah get high mate until you know, until you become a snowflake, unique, i hear you speakin in tongues, got your own way to talk about what's goin' on and that's not wrong but i still see all my brothers and sisters on the street, running round town, trying to find a place to sleep the hari krishna's blessed be, looking after god's children, but krishna's crazy tellin brother to kill brother teaching arjuna kung fu and yoga don't make no sense to me this city's hard when you've fallen all dem wanderers trying to make ends meet stallin for time hustling to survive, droppin' out to find out what it means to be alive ain't safe no more now the police's at your door, got people everywhere sleepin where they lay eatin out of bins every day bumming cigarettes surviving's okay gotta keep playin' this town needs raisin babylon's awaking callin' for love callin' for love So here's the concept. A proposal, you could say. A game to appeal to the uk today, to the disaffected, to the disenfranchised, the undernourished, the un-encouraged, the hopeless romantics and the hopelessly paranoid, yes, this is London, a melting pot, the schizoid heart of the UK, where we may be all in it together, or we may just be out to get one another, which is it? Just a matter of perspective. Let's move beyond duality. Let's hit the ground running. Where do revolution and social evolution meet? Can we find our feet together? It's cold and dark outside, we're balancing on knives, time to live or time to die? Time to open up our third eyes say the mystics, we're looking at the end of an era, the hippy says, smiling over his bong, Jah Rastafarai, I'll fill me lungs, sit back relax it's not wrong, police and thieves, the radio's playing the same old song, the artist in the corner's been painting for days, got paint on the carpet and all over her face, the ex-marine's on the sofa, passed out like a light, if you buy him a beer he'll be yours for the night, the street kids are out skipping, the ravers passed out, the time traveller's ranting, and I'm filled with doubt. ---- The artist turns to me and says 'You're not dead yet, kid, come on, let's play', hands me a brush, then walks away. My name is trip and this is my message to you