Harnk
08-23-2006, 06:59 AM
My friend Randy from the Fuzz Haunted made a brilliant song based on a stream of conscience passage I wrote recently. I think it's a great song. Please listen if you have a minute.
The Mighty Peru (http://www.myspace.com/randylord )
The song was derived from the following:
Tuberculosis for a slighted harlot struck softly upon with a cotton hammer,
although said harlot never sighs openly,
she cries into a hankerchief, for fear of pneumonia,
or worse, peppered panties.
And then of course trips to Peru for better rest,
her best wishes dressed in a sweater,
her cats will stay with the neighbor,
and then nothing for at least a month or better.
The mighty Peru,
as ever is,
and was,
she breathed in then out,
her breasts dangling,
her pill box empty- beggar boys begging for chicken at her ankles.
An to be alive in such times,
with an underserved bout of syphilis,
albeit not so bad,
each boil a burst of memories, forgotten lovers and the like.
Oh canoe trip with strangers,
not the Peru she knew,
and so she stayed behind waving off the team of eager boys,
oars in hand and plenty of sandwiches for long journey.
A gentle hello bid her farewell-all dreams must end,
she thought, much like she never knew,
then of course the return flight home.
[Edited on 8-23-0606 by Harnk]
The Mighty Peru (http://www.myspace.com/randylord )
The song was derived from the following:
Tuberculosis for a slighted harlot struck softly upon with a cotton hammer,
although said harlot never sighs openly,
she cries into a hankerchief, for fear of pneumonia,
or worse, peppered panties.
And then of course trips to Peru for better rest,
her best wishes dressed in a sweater,
her cats will stay with the neighbor,
and then nothing for at least a month or better.
The mighty Peru,
as ever is,
and was,
she breathed in then out,
her breasts dangling,
her pill box empty- beggar boys begging for chicken at her ankles.
An to be alive in such times,
with an underserved bout of syphilis,
albeit not so bad,
each boil a burst of memories, forgotten lovers and the like.
Oh canoe trip with strangers,
not the Peru she knew,
and so she stayed behind waving off the team of eager boys,
oars in hand and plenty of sandwiches for long journey.
A gentle hello bid her farewell-all dreams must end,
she thought, much like she never knew,
then of course the return flight home.
[Edited on 8-23-0606 by Harnk]