Ohh Ipod 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 new 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 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 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 girls, I app dreamroam;
And right now I want YOU or anybody else to blame
for I ain’t nobody, a dull plane dud with no name
but, tomorrow I’ll wake up with 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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