Experimental, impressionistic sub-paragraph tumblin' (think obstsalat)



Yea, call him drunken Ira Hayes,
But his land is just as dry,
And the ghost is lying thirsty
In the ditch where Ira died.
— Peter LaFarge, The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

17:56 <manfred-s> Hah, I can bring a gun to the US if I want (:
17:57 <manfred-s> But I can't take Cuban sigars (:
17:57 <manfred-s> I wonder if you get fixed for smoking a Cuban cigar when your carrying a loaded pistol at the airport.
17:57 <manfred-s> *fined

In a minute or an hour or two
In a minute we’ll just see ‘bout you
Don’t look back
You were easy in your little ways
You’re so easy now you lost the game
Don’t look back
— Dead Moon, Don’t Look Back