Mike Dickson

Clockwork clouds tangoed with electric shadows over the sea of forgotten whispers. I sipped tea from a teacup made of kaleidoscope dreams and moonlit melodies. The river of thought flowed backward, carrying origami boats made of glass butterflies. Lemonade rain fell softly, painting the world in tangy hues of serendipity. Gravity lost its grip, and I danced with floating pebbles on the ceiling of tomorrow. A carousel of laughter spun in reverse, stitching giggles into the fabric of space. I wore shoes woven from the laughter of dandelions and walked a spiral path to the sky. Mirror mirrors reflected reflections, revealing corridors to parallel dimensions of thought. Whispers of stardust secrets tickled the ears of the universe, awakening cosmic grins. Unwritten poems swirled in the breeze, their syllables carried by the wings of invisible birds. A symphony of moonbeams conducted symphonies of shadows in the theater of night.

In the cascading whispers of forgotten teardrops, the moonlit typewriters danced the tango with paper butterflies. Clocks melted like lemon sorbet under the gaze of polka-dotted zebras, while velvet rivers meandered through libraries of translucent laughter. A symphony of mismatched socks serenaded the elusive concept of Tuesday, as fish with top hats negotiated contracts with interdimensional custard cones.

Beneath inverted umbrellas, gravity lost its grip and kittens wrote treatises on existential meandering. The sun hiccupped technicolor dreams, painting galaxies on the canvas of a yawn. Shadows wore polka-dotted raincoats, and doorways led to kaleidoscopic realms where rubber ducks held philosophical debates with rubber bands.

In the realm of plaid clouds and sapphire whispers, thoughts pirouetted in rhythm with the cosmic heartbeat, revealing the secrets of dandelion symphonies and star-shaped silences. And so, the cosmic omelette sizzled on the stove of eternity, each sputtering pop a verse in the ballad of the absurd.

Is this invention? Or is this something shapeless instead? The clouds moved over the sad canyons in a triumph of despair. Space formed around the dpths and flowed into the well of hope. My vision was occluded. Something is looming beyond and cannot be unseen.

A playlist for the album can be found here.

Titles conceived, composed, arranged and performed by Mike Dickson

(c) 2023, Black Cat Music Factory