Soft sounds come to me, out of the depths they creep, darkened thoughts, staccato drum beat and her face. A twisted mixture of two girls; lost in time, lost in space, one dead the other as good as. They made the verse flow these two, gave me the power to write and compose.

Now the memory lies at the bottom of the pool engorged and bloated. Waves have crashed and the leaves are finally still. Still the song goes on, the CD spins and the iPod plays.

Three boxes, evidence of the band we once were, evidence of the songs we made and played. Songs about girls lost and gone, songs about lives lived and died. Are there more songs to write? Memories to explore and thoughts to highlight…

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