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..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::.. Wasting air just being here Time moves through these walls and out again. Filling space is that what I do? A life spent chaste of anything new. The frequency beneath my heart Is not enough to make things last Playing out my numbered days With more and more, and more of the same. I fall down - Waiting to hit the ground I cease to be the person everyone sees I know that I am not awake, this can only be one thing I am not dreaming I am missing! Conversations growing old Instantly forget what I was told. The only time I feel alive, Is when those close to me have died. One of billions to have walked this earth Now you tell me just what it is worth. When everything has stayed the same, Only the faces and names have changed. ..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..::..

I have been playing drums for 28 years I started in grade 3 my old man was a count down stage drummer and played with some well known artists so I was introduced early learning harmonica Tom tom bongos and drum kits of many different types of music