Contact: Watching the Sun rise, Junk Master Lol finds himself and enters the brotherhood of drug taking only to find himself at a tribal velvet situation (the ballad of a junkie). Much confused, even disillusioned in desperation he turns onto the goddess (in the form of a black witch from Brixton way) who points out, it’s okay.
Just get on with it, scum or bums. It don’t matter as long as we give it some 100%.
People are different, and with that he finds himself in India, with time to heal. And time to punish that old body of his until he believes in the soul, and see the light. A sprinkling of truth, no proof, none needed. Me takes his ideas of love back to the cold land and tries to make sense of it all. A love reprise, not yet void of emotions, it hurts when there’s no one there to kiss it better, even when wise to it. Bright eyes, because we gave it a try, and it’s back to the beginning, only different some what. Sing brother sing etc. etc. but the future is a woman.
Lol Coopog on the love conspiracy.