From the bogs of Y Kant Tori Read she crawled, into her faerie ring. Little
earthquakes fell upon an unknowing public. Success, and always a price, for me
and a gun to run and run and run.
On top of the globe she sang to the world, endearing herself to us all.
Back down under the pink, she crawled once again, and emerged with a brand new
skin.
A pretty good year for MEA and she proved a flakey girl not to be...
An erruption of feeling is following close and she offers up some boys for pele. A
cronical of male fire extiguishers and how they shaped her soul. Hey Jupiter is
that you? No it's just the lights from the hotel....where that choirgirl sings," I can
be cruel,darling, I don't know why." A loss and a gain for this album brings the
news of the "churchbells that played when you died." Baby girl, you skeeter girl,
you will never be the same....
To there and back this woman has been, from girl and man and so....
She seems to grow each time she speaks....or breaths...or thinks....or eats....