Saturday, June 05, 2010

Lumber Up. Limbo Down



I can't sing and they can't play. At first I'm going to wear a dinner jacket in front of a buncha hippies and an electrician's helper. My girlfriends are stewardesses on the handbasket to hell. Then I'll try an unexplained eyepatch and some sort of uniform like I'm a Field Marshal in the Weirdmacht. We're annexing Bolivia, though.

I'm drunk on Rimbaud while I read the gin bottle. I invented girls wearing their underwear on the outside of their clothes. I think they're girls. I'd have to go to church every day for a century to work my way back to being as wholesome as a vampire. I perform live with dead eyes. I'm from the bad neighborhood on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. We're the default wedding band for marriages of convenience.

Wanna dance?

2 comments:

Bill said...

But you've got to love the late 40's outfits on the back-up singers, don't you just want to peel them out of them to see what's underneath?

Anonymous said...

Reginald:

Damned inconsiderate of you to move. Well, when I drop by unannounced you will have to have clean sheets in the guest room because I'm sure I will have too many Bombay and tonics to drive back to Rhode Island. And send me your email address.