Slice by Jim Ver

Fire jugglers, torches spinning around just two steps in front of me, warmth. A trampoline, a little girl jumping to the ceiling and back, a dark painting at the rear of her figure comes and goes. A table lamp in the corner, a tattered lamp shade gracing it, lights flickering and I take a look around from my perch on the dusty couch. Who’s to tell the truth, for we adore the fakes, we hold dear the promiscuous and we marvel the can-can dancers on the far side of my horizon. Stop being the brakes. As for me, I stand up, fix my tie and somewhere in this medicine show, I’m enjoying the ride. We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye.

Tracklist