Yet another interview was sabotaged. No matter. Word's getting out, gentlemen, you scumbags, you. Third time's a charm.

I'm floating over strange land,
It's a soulless, sequined, showbiz moon.
I'm floating over strange land,
And then stranger still, there's no balloon.
But I'm getting higher,
Wafted up by fame's fickle fire 'til the...

Chalkhills and children,
Anchor my feet.
Chalkhills and children,
Bringing me back to earth,
Eternally and ever Ermine Street.
(Even I never know where I go when my eyes are closed.)

I'm skating over thin ice,
Upon blunted blades of metal soft.
I'm skating over thin ice,
While some nonesuch net holds me aloft.
But I'm getting higher,
Lifted up on lucks' circus wire 'til the...

Chalkhills and children,
Anchor my feet.
Chalkhills and children,
Bringing me back to earth,
Eternally and ever Ermine Street.

Even I never know where I go when my eyes are closed.
Even I never spied that the scenes were posed.
Even I never knew this is what I'd be.
Even eyes never mean that you're sure to see.

Still I'm getting higher,
Rolling up on three empty tyres, 'til the...

Chalkhills and children,
Anchor my feet.
Chalkhills and children,
Bringing me back to earth,
Eternally and ever Ermine Street.

I'm soaring over hushed crowds,
The reluctant cannonball it seems.
I'm soaring over hushed crowds,
I'm propelled up here by long dead dreams.

Still I'm getting higher,
Icarus regrets and retires puzzled.

Chalkhills and children,
Anchor my feet.
Chalkhills and children,
Oddly complete.
(Even I never know where I go when my eyes are all closed.)

Here I go again.

A message to Miss Sarah Stanga

Attention Flash-in-the-pan: 

Ride the coat tails of someone else for a change, you're busting my chops and harshing my mellow. 

If you want to quietly be obsessed with me for a year and a half but are too cowardly to use your real name (pseudonym "Violet") and tell me you are in the programs with me and have a stalker crush on me and then just as quick as you please stab me in the back after all I ever was was loving and supportive and wanting you to heal (black witches hate love and support) and tell everyone on your blog that I am "psychically attacking you", tell someone else, I am not into it.

Deprogramming is not politically correct, Miss Stanga. What "The Druid" James Casbolt was offering you was infinite generosity and healing but you are just too entrenched in your love of your victimhood and a reliance on the superficial (And negative ET-ruled re-programmer of supersoldiers Stewart Swerdlow and black magus negative-ET-ruled drug addict/alcoholic/grifter Max Spiers- who DEFINITELY got his talons in you) to see that he was giving you the biggest gift ever. Just because you say you are a Buddhist does not make it so.

What you are conducting is a negative ET-controlled witch hunt. Cowards grow like weeds.
 I'm a moon flower.

(Miles Johnston, are you reading this? Why haven't you interviewed me yet? Don't you think it's time to interview a woman in the programs with James who ISN'T a black widow spider for once? (Alara is a very enthusiastic, cheerful participant/one as well.) Don't you think it's time to interview someone who could perhaps connect the dots better than these black witches who seem to have a thing for finding you and digging their talons in deep-- and then posting histrionic negative comments about me on their blogs and psi attacking me later?)

Your crocodile tears aren't fooling anyone, woman. You have just been served.