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Confined on the ship, from which there is no escape, the madman is delivered to the river with its thousand arms, the sea with its thousand roads, to that great uncertainty external to everything. He is a prisoner in the midst of what is the freest, the openest of routes: bound fast at the infinite crossroads. He is the Passenger par excellence: that is, the prisoner of the passage. And the land he will come to is unknown—as is, once he disembarks, the land from which he comes. He has his truth and his homeland only in that fruitless expanse between two countries that cannot belong to him.


Throw a kiss goodbye, we’ve got maps and charts
Raise the bottle high, break it on the bow for the right start
Never think about hope when you think about lies
Never tie a rope around a sun-kissed smile

This boat is at the bottom of a bottle
This song is where there are only dragons

We're broken bulb beautiful
Eyes could set the sea on fire
But every bridge we burn has water under it
And everything we touch drips through our hands

This boat is at the bottom of a bottle
This song is where the sun don’t shine

Dark days, black waves on the bay
Dark days, black clouds on the way



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Adrian Morse Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Adrian creates songs stitched from historical yarns, literary scenes, and relatable blunders of personal experience. A veteran of countless musical missteps, unrealized bands, and aborted projects, his recent works include an acoustic LP and a series of increasingly unpopular releases with the power pop band Readership. He resides in Philadelphia and has a nice cat (who even has his own song). ... more

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