Benoît Pioulard - An Image Apart from Ourselves

Initial B.P.

As Would a Weaver

Whose Palms Create

Shut-Ins on Sunday See

Of Everything That Rhymes

A Shade of Celadon

So Etched in Memory

Anchor as the Muse

With No Advantage

Is in Its Clearest Form

The Very Edge of Its Flame

And Relent

Under the Break Arch

That Wounded Weathered

The Gilded Fear That Guides the Flow

When We Were Young

Sen Kaldın

A Desert Born in Twilight

There She Goes

PAIN

Why Won't You Love Me

Touch My Body

Hey Kop

I Want To Know What Love Is

Lie To Me

Good As Hell

Fantasy

KING (Slowed + Reverb)

Damn

Party Rock Anthem