Good evening no-one, here's some rock n' roll...
I'll telecast my ailments to the wind
Wild as it is, the wildest is my soul
When wound up by the wounds of those who sinned
The sound of fretful friends, fiendishly spinned
By disc, discovered and destroyed by drugs
Recovered by recordings, needles pinned
To vinyl, finely scored. Bleedin' hell. Mugs
Full of a bitter wine, whine better. Slugs
That hit a tender spot, ending not old
Forever young. Kneel to music, though thinned
On top. Don't drop the pressure. Pull the rugs
The rocking chair is mine! I've lost control!
Tell the past masters I'm one of their kind!
Mon 12 Nov 2007
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