Songs of Guilt and of Naïveté is simply another means of expressing ideas - another channel, a different turn in the road - a mystery tour with a blindfolded driver - with the hope that there are many more unknown destinations to follow in the future. Grab a ticket and hop aboard by clickin the album photo...

Rapscallion - the next bend in the road with the knowledge that the crossroads is looming ahead. The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled... or as someone once said, 'Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change.'

Skin Slap Rumble - Here we are at the crossroads, to be met by a cornucopia of choices and a rendezvous of questions. East or West? North or South? A tossed coin spins in the silver moonlight as Fate prepares to offer up her verdict.

I know not whence I came, nor where I go,
But while I yet remain, on with the show.

'There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore; -
Turn wheresoe'r I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.'

From 'Intimations of Immortality' - William Wordsworth

'To dream is to live. Dream on, for to awaken is to die.'

'Where does the journey end?
Where did it begin?
The time draws nigh
To pinpoint the point of no return.
The terminus looms.'

'Journey's end - and no lovers meet. From alpha to omega, from first to last, the line of escape is complete. Now there is rest for the weary. And yet.....is not each ending a new beginning?'

When words fail, the very soul is bereft. It sighs, then dies, a victim of progress and tradition. One thing alone is clear. The road that lies before you is an illusion. It is not the one on which you will journey.

To start afresh; what does it mean? To repeat new faults? To revisit new haunts? Or is it simply to recreate the ghosts of the past anew? The grass may appear greener - but the sign still reads 'Beware'.

'And it came to pass that the first were last, the last were first and the second, though considered unclean, were saved by the bell of liberty and given the gift of hindsight. And they saw it was good and began begetting. And all their days were full of sin and moneymaking.'

To look is not to see. To listen is not to hear. To touch is not to feel. We must see without looking; hear without listening; feel without touching. We must learn to live before we die, not die before we live.

Civilization is a by-product of neurosis; Time is simply hours strung singly on a long thread, for what, after all, is a fishing net but holes tied together with string.

Life is no melody, but a malady, played in a minor key, intrinsically flawed; a rare jewel, broken on the wheel of Time.

Nostalgia is a form of pain. It's misty-eyed and on the verge of tears. It tugs at your heart strings like a beautiful woman looking for a low interest loan. Don't trust it – the payments are too high.