Great gig in the sky

Sigh…remind me not to share any whacky thoughts in here from now on. Seems like there are too many around who can mess around with it. From now on Weatherman is going straight. No more jokes. :(

ZB – am running out of hats here. So this time will just kneel down and rub my nose on the floor.

PS: HEY! DID I JUST GIVE U ANOTHER IDEA?? SPARE ME THIS ONE DUDE! P L E A S E!! I promise I will return your Northern Exposure DVDs…(boo hoo hoo…WAIL!)

A Feast of Friends

Wow, Im sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings.
The servants have the power
Dog-men and their mean women
Pulling poor blankets over
Our sailors

Im sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the tv tower.
I want roses in my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
Must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
For the plant thats plowed.

They are waiting to take us into
The severed garden
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
Comes death on a strange hour
Unannounced, unplanned for
Like a scaring over-friendly guest youve
Brought to bed

Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings
Where we had shoulders
Smooth as ravens
Claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
Until its other jaw reveals incest
And loose obedience to a vegetable law.

I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the giant family.

~ The Doors

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