Being in a band is like being married to four or five different people, all with the same problems.
See I was a musician before I a poet/writer. I slung words with the help of my
Played a slew of grimy bands, RockBlues Punk Surf
(I learned that most people don’t really know how to play their Ax, their piece, their childhood dream that was interrupted by an unbalanced
But it’s the oppression classic rock has bestowed on the world—like Stairway to Heaven, the keeper of the people, the conversance the world’s accustomed to—has brainwashed and embedded some souls; like a demented Jesus nobody really loves inside, only out loud,
(about every four years when it’s time to use and manipulate the world with what they do not know)
Or Lucy and his fur dressed in drag: who…
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