As always with my #nonsense songs, I ask for a collab and offer instructions: Sing it like you've recently become an ancient creature of Faerie that you've always been, for eons of nudging the world to turn.

I'm not sure if this one is less nonsensical than most or if I always think that because they all develop some kind of internal logic that exists only inside my head when I'm writing them. If you want to judge for yourself, https://tinyurl.com/nonsensecycle.

#nonsensecycle #needscollab #needsvocals

Finnegan is heartbreaking again tomorrow please Willsome weather wrap me up in lilting gunsmoke ease Feathery and fearsome loch, release my soul's release Intentionally suffering is not for pixy ghosts Belaborous and winsome toothy-smiling party hosts Vindicative of nighbormares and bearing antique boasts Hinterlands splinched in trices quell the my-loves of the lambs And quintessential prairie cradles form between your hands There is no turning back now from the platinous iambs I think I'm growing weaker in the night

I've given all my Longbourns to a company in trust My ears are up to their ears in ancient paintings' colored dust I know I put a good face on unwilling piles of rust I think I'm growing weaker in the night

And there are aeroplanes unsightly beaming cross the apple skies So take me back to when the willows mummified wolves twixt their thighs Unpretentious unassuming unforgiven, unalived Witch gardens planted by the ether in a plot to recognize The contributions of the lolling hills which wanderers emprise And underhill was over future corp'rate compromise So vaguely celtic violin, unwrap me once to go Forget my name and face and pain and other features so And knot the nat'ral world as one, color us as ago The foothills are encumbent to the night

The publican of pelicans calls out a merry stomp There is no languor he'll allow, no choice the now but romp Wind-wharf kerscudding downriver and up the mystic pomp The foothills are encumbent to the night No one's life is but only their own life