Ohh iPhone Apple, fire naked screens
give me light beer, chips, and pretty scenes;
I don’t like no art
I rather follow a juicy conspiracy or news from some twisted lemon cult.
Oh, gosh, shorten those chic country-song rhymes
So I can remember simple, old times;
Chasing some stripping twitters
And red lips clips on high, high heels….
Oh, baby if I could hang your butt in a right melody frame
I would sing playing banjo and become a famous name,
for you I would even play the role in the new luminate game
but you know me, I am through and through the banjo blue-grass nerd,
and this is just a midnight boiler-maker talk, a worthless word.
So it goes
prairie winter from dusk to dawn:
I tweet
I skull n’ bone
the bad-Bohemian sweethearts,
I iTune and scam girls,
I app
with CEO’s photos and their private jets;
And right now I want YOU or anybody else to blame
for I ain’t nobody,
a dull plane dud with no name
tomorrow I’ll wake up
with banjo and the backyard Rooster’s bark
And shoot one twilight shot in the dark…
to make it up for this lost Gargantuan night.


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