HotDoodle Toolbar        
Back to Category
Scribe


#17: Tiger tiger March march
 

The skies were light at first and so was the sign-up list. – The vampire gene in musicians keeps them away until dark. Bruce sold food to buy time and this drew in the tiger, tiger, the one and the other, or as a valley girl would say, "like totality". Nick and Brandon progressed strummingly until they got stung up, and then it was a March march until the Irish seemed doomed, but it's almost St Paddy's day, so take a load off Annie and let's belly dance. I'm tired of all this messing around, would you marry me, Mrs. Pegio?

Come home, Bill Bailey, you still have time before the April showers. Oops… too late, Fabio's here. You had better go bach. Don’t worry, be happy, and get the morning glories. 90 year old fingers can surprise you. Oh Danny boy! Hot coffee love… give me another Giuliani. Bach again! Shh, don’t tell the virgin guitar, it is still in its glass cage. Nothings going to change its world, not even fire breathers and acrobats. Will you still marry me anyway?

Well, it was a tiger tiger March march sort of night and the wired brain eating plant still lurks, but we know that the food chain is an act of desperation. Poor plant, but it got to share this open mic at the Essanay.

Posted – 03/18/07 1:32pm by Lynn Slater, updated or replied 03/31/07 12:23pm
 
 

Back to Category