So the first album I ever bought was Live at the Hollywood Bowl...check that. The first album I ever bought was the Star Wars soundtrack, Rexall Drugs, Mahopac, New York (pronounced Mayo-Pack for anyone that might be reading a Ma-Ho-Pack into this and getting all huffy) right across from the lake and just down the street from Rodack's, home of the finest post you made it through church nods again treat sandwiches known to man. That album cover would soon be the repository of all of the stickers I collected from the Star Wars card packs I spent way too much of my paperboy money on (yes, I lived a time of paperboys). I somehow thought that buying that album and those cards might get me a bit closer to that magical galaxy. It was a little dissapointing.
But the first REAL album (apologies Mr Williams) I ever bought was the Beatles Live at the Hollywood Bowl. He doesn't know me but a "Speilbergian" suburbia was inspired by myself and countless other then kids as I rode my bike to Mammoth Mart, too many miles and years away today but a mere blip for us back then, with one intent. Come home with that record. I rode, one handed, all the way back to my bedroom using that extra hand, outstretched, to hold that prize away from any possible bike's bounce handlebar/wheel damage while also cursing any car that passed endangering such. It was surely around this time when I did, eventually, get that prize to my bedroom, and because of my endless replays of "Twist and Shout", "Ticket to Ride", "A Hard Day's Night" and the rest, that Mom probably wished she had discovered vodka.
I bring this up only because I've built a few tunes here in the Attic courtesy of the Beatles. Unintentional really...to start. Maybe it's because I can "sing" them a bit easier knowing them so well, maybe it's because I'd like to think the "lads" would agree with my tuned sentiments, maybe the songs sort of lend themselves or maybe it's just because this was the time I wish I could go back to, a cliche'd innocence, when mom and dad, when all of our mom's and dad's trusted us, trusted us out there on our bikes, trusted us to be smart and be ourselves without worry and when the future didn't look so dim, when our present then wasn't as fucked up as this current now.
Language, I know...sorry Ma.
So another tune, another attempt to keep sane in an insane world.
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Trump D In The Lie With Zirconia
Picture yourself in a swamp where truth quivers
With Orange tinged lies and white chocolate tries
A Senate adores you, you gloat in the glory
Of lapdog and sycophant cries
Cult like adornments white lettered on red
Witlessly cover their heads
Cast for the dumbest with blind in their eyes
And you've won
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Ahhhhhhhhh....
Trump dumb dumb down to a negative measure
Where marshmallow people cry victim's sad sighs
Backwards they go at behest of their master
Where white anger's dumb it does rise
News outlets try all while ducking their heads
From Orange shouts looking for blood
But still Nielsen calls with their 30 coins pay
And they're done
Trump D in the Lie he's not heaven sent
Trump D in the Lie Sarah go get bent
Trump D's GOP's on a Hell descent
Ahhhhhhhhh....
Picture a sad orange cream sickle nightmare
Where real is accused of being the lie
Actual lies are then trotted state news style
A Fox truth democracy dies
Trump D in the Lie he's not heaven sent
Trump D in the Lie Sarah go get bent
Trump D's GOP's on a Hell descent
Ahhhhhhhhh....
Trump D in the Lie with gold's foolish
Trump D in the Lie with 49'ers
Trump D in the Lie with alchemy
Ahhhhhhhhh....
Trump D in the Lie with alchemy
Ahhhhhhhhh....
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Ahhhhhhhhh...
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Trump D in the Lie with Zirconia
Ahhhhhhhhh...
So talented ! Good job
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. I keep trying.
ReplyDelete