The Boontown Rats...have scuppered past the chain mail drawn against Monday hours, a chink in the armour not up to scratch has buckled under the weight of " vote for me " shouted from every corner of the globe,is this a bandwagon rolling never ending no dust bowls to hide in.
Woody Guthrie plucks " This land is your land " his words over the years have become the blowing sage, for those who own us, prefer " Ti Yi Yo,get along Little Dogies "...for who wins but the bone-shaker.
Cannot wait for the t-shirts mugs and kipper ties i know will come,perhaps on November 4th i can hide for the day turn off all media cover my head in a paper bag run naked through the streets for my fifteen minutes of fame.
Climb aboard the euphoria being whipped, up singing " Three wheels on my wagon " the cherokee's are in the distance will they have the last laugh as they turn singing " I heard it through the grape vine " but really meaning to sing " Rag Doll " by the Fortunes.I was in a large Post Office the other day early dawning hours, rag Doll stuttered from the wireless played by one of the gold stations in Manchester, i stopped looked around there was only i what a waste.
The song always makes me want to cry,the emotions of which confuse,i am sure it is just the harmony of the voices and nothing to do with a rag doll,perhaps because it came from within my childhood,some records stop you dead, i hope, maybe am sure, i am not the only one who feels like this.
However today is Monday and i have survived the rush captured in work hours the do's and must's..i have a new machine to play with..on which was a small message enlightened this morning, one word was unacceptable...uuurrrmm i thought and it is only Monday,a shame i could not order some cocks,i wonder is that what they mean by unacceptable...