Given the week that it is, I decided to bring this poem back from the dead…..
Thom Yorke takes a walk on Halloween Night
The dead move slowly
through the graveyard,
they are few at first
but as they pass
each row of headstones
grey fists punch
through mounds of earth
in a manic salute
and the throng grows
and the throng grows
and the night howls
and the fog curls
and a thin cloud
bisects the moon
and at the edge
of the graveyard
is an old well
and at the bottom
of that well
is a little boy
and that little boy
is crying for help
and that little boy
is Thom Yorke
Stopdraggingthepanda 
I like what is shaping up to be an annual tradition. Anything with Thom Yorke is OK with me.
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Like this one!
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lol. I just finished listening to Daydreaming, coincidentally ~
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Thom is a talented guy!
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