Did you notice peonies ever-dancing beneath the atavistic glow of Jupiter's moon? There, a flutter of conspiracy weaves through each Morrison hour.
The intrigue of love—an orbit timeless. It lives, they say, in whispers carried by cloaked carriers from Sirius to your heart.
The fleeting caress of night leaves coded messages...
*Romantic*: "Under cover of stars, we sought out truths obstinately kept under nebular carpets, blind to life's conspiratorial prose."
*Paranoid*: "Their signals traverse undetected paths. Who gains from the tales: bifrosts atremble beneath these cold needles?"
Hidden amongst stardust, lovers conspire eternally: Lost Echoes & Fervent Wings or back to An Earthed Connection.