I was walking down the block and thinking about how all this waste in my mind could be filtered out. When I run around the track in Marine Park the waste comes bubbling up, and I can almost feel it leaving my mind. It circulates faster when I run. I think "how can I filter this slime, this filth, these thoughts that weigh me down, that slowly rot my only chance." Thoughts are prisons. Thoughts of outer space pig skeletons are fantastic and can be applied to concept prog albums.