A Moment Lost - David Nevue (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1evTK3tpuXc#)<br/><br/><strong>Clemenza - strolling down the streets of Gilead - A Moment Lost</strong><br/><br/>The "bit o' honey" wasn't quite as sweet as his slice of life despite how it rankled his senses and appealed to his greater sense of confectionary injustice.  His tongue languorously swished like the lazy tail of a half-hearted feline.  Broad strokes stoked the brush-bellows into the blowhard wax-hot wafting that spin-cycled a lurid lengua.  Gooey gobs and gelatinous globules defied his taste's buds burgeoning barrow.  The injustice sent such a twinge straight upwards, through his jaw, limned his lineament, and into his brain where it blossomed into the dull throb of an aching sweet tooth.<br/><br/>"Gah!"<br/><br/><em>Bite your tongue old man.</em>Cute.  But, as destiny might have it, not cute enough.  The fates spiraled out of his featherlight grasp with the intermittent beating of ragged wings.  And the dim illumination of a discarded halo.  Fancy that.  The cadence kept swift pursuit like the clip-clop clod-hopping of hooves upon the macadam; his passage was the heartbeat of a lively step -- in time -- and demanding of it's own percussive accompaniment.  Care to enlighten an old world?  The gray scale hues steeped in a world awash with monochromatic stains.  Salt and pepper sprinkled liberally upon the canvas.  The mendicant call for brush strokes begged the Nephilim to paint their world.  No more cavalier a swath could be cut through a switchblade's swatch, like painted parchment paper, when held aloft against the mosaic.  A central, circular, stained-glass rose window, a lidless kaleidoscopic eye,  filtered purgatory-vision and rendered pale, palling desires; it was a porthole through which they peered and ogled the world that might have been.<br/><br/><em>"Eternity follows me everywhere,<br/>My words so hollow won't go anywhere,<br/>Distant shadows disappear,<br/>It searches the gate beyond the stars,<br/>Is it just an omen,<br/>Is it me walking blindly,<br/>I will find the answer,<br/>When I wake up from my dream."</em><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.scoutleadersrescue.org/files/Old%20Ambulance(3).jpg)</div>The siren's plaintive bleating roused him from reverie, shod his loafers in pig-iron, and rooted him stock-still on telescopic rails.  An ambulance whizzed by him with the kind of haste that should warrant an emergency.  Amichevole doffed his hat to the Lord and dipped his brim to Him.  In so doing, he spared a moment of prayer for the passenger of the vehicle.  The mystery of divine work was spread parsimoniously like marshmallow fluff over peanut butter and scraped sparingly over a toasted veil of sin.  A choir of blitzing vixens heralded his entrance into ambulatory care, each step shrouded in the shapeless shadows of mortality.<br/><br/>"May I help you?" came the disembodied query from a misshapen mass off his starboard.<br/><br/>"Ah yes," he hesitated, "I'd like to see a doctor."<br/><br/>"What's wrong?" the nebulous voice interrogated.<br/><br/>"Why nothing, my dear, nothing at all."