Friday, September 11, 2009

Good Night and Good Luck


I welcome you to the few 4 who carried me from the hot summers in May to the cold winters in the auto.

They sang a song once, I listened and I nanaaad to it.

A day will come when they all will be gone, and just incase I'm not blogging then;

I made a cake for them once but they were too high on LSD that time to have some. I called Jude, he asked me to make it better. I wasn't very good at baking good cakes so I added a little Norwegian Wood to it. I looked over my shoulder at them and I admired their simplicity in the midst of the madness they had created. Like school kids who had just come from an hour of play ball. Lying in a heap, they stared at the ceiling for hours. John wasn't wearing his glasses, he had something clutched in his hand, a letter from Eleanor Rigby. Paul on the other hand kept saying that he needed help. George had once played the sitar with me beside the sea, he never did say much these days. Calling Ringo yesterday for tea was a good idea, he spoke of his days in the USSR.

The cake still wasn't perfect, I let it be.

Standing at a corner, beside the guitar, I gently weeped.

Who am I ?

I am the walrus