Search - The Tim Heidecker Masterpiece :: Theatre of Magic: The Original Cast Recording

Underwoods brush

Nicholas Ray Horn | Central Arkansas | 02/06/2007

(5 out of 5 stars)

"it is good. The wizard in my mind when I was five was already a dragon that quietly dug a talon where a metal trailer with heated air vents rusty sharp could never cut. Bow quickly, with a future where your head and back used to be. Posing opossums are all around always being watched always been pretending to sleep. Keep records of the like minded, so there is a forsooker that'll croon like me. Curious carvers buffet upon sheet after sheet. Bible Camp air after someone curses invites terror to get the screens pried off my kitchen window in the back. Crained my neck to face the beast and bowed. The dragon never spoke above a whisper

So distinct you know where the lilly is of. Look to know the Congo for years. Tell me critical aspects I've been lacking in. With those pox thoughts I never wanted.

"Dissapointment Else". A hospital called that should be for that. Jealous of the quicker.

Alone, with one less day per week, the possiblity of a comet hitting earth while I'm yawning one day, not enough time. When there was eight days in a week I didn't know how to bow because I stood tall unaware with my titans. When I saw all the titans take ungainly uneasy steps down an unsteady wooden ladder from my sky, my dragon stayed to stare and whisper. When eight turned seven only the weeks went faster, I didn't, so I saw a behemoth. I regret only the time it took to prostrate myself before him.

The long lasting thoughts of plan ruin my dragons landing pad. A unbridled beast whispers beauty and bye every once in a while. Taken from me every year is a little less precious. I'll get the screens pried off my kitchen windows. Somehow something has hidden me from an old day of the week. In fits of disgust and paranoid suspicions I think even my dragon doesn't think I age fast enough.

I go to bed on Saturday nights and sleep through my eight. The dragon took me with quiet whispers of what twists in me can't be undone or untied, what knots up will have to just be tightened to its smallest. May my dragon always find more time.

The wind has started to pick up and some wheat is flying away with the chaff.

Thanks be to Mr. Tim Heidecker.

My left eye's two pupils water for you."