liar liar with your pants on fire, white spades hangin' on the telephone wire, gamblers reevaluate along the dotted line, you'll never recognize yourself on heartattack and vine.
Hello Mikeb, Talk about memories, Late one Saturday night in the early 1980’s, I was watching Austin City Limits on PBS. The stage was black, and then with a lone, tight circled, spot light came on. A single man walked into the lamination and in a deep gravely voice, smoking a cigarette, leaning on an old gas pump, the type that had the disk glass globe on top. There was some dark, moody, jazz background music playing as he poured out this Beatnik type poetry that was full of deep emotions. I was stunned, amazed, becoming an instant fan not even knowing who he was and totally blown away. Good posting.
Hello Mikeb,
ReplyDeleteTalk about memories, Late one Saturday night in the early 1980’s, I was watching Austin City Limits on PBS. The stage was black, and then with a lone, tight circled, spot light came on. A single man walked into the lamination and in a deep gravely voice, smoking a cigarette, leaning on an old gas pump, the type that had the disk glass globe on top. There was some dark, moody, jazz background music playing as he poured out this Beatnik type poetry that was full of deep emotions. I was stunned, amazed, becoming an instant fan not even knowing who he was and totally blown away. Good posting.