The Whimsical River (Daniel Catarino) Bitter thoughts come rushing in through the front door There’s a sulphurous smell coming out of your mortal remains And the bitter thoughts are static in their own confusion Thinking about the slippery conscience of pain And nothing else is up for sale And you’re floating down the whimsical river The waters shake and the fishing boat quivers with the motion Silent nights come rushing in through the meadows It’s august now and the sparkling sun sets a flame The stencils draw in a mighty tone of delusion And guilt has a plan to find you someone to blame Its eight degrees on richter scale Regardless of your thoughts Beware, the shadow still remains Regardless of your thoughts You are the same