*Note: Do not take the statements above serious. This user lacks a Chromosome and a brain cell.
The M is my real initial.
And I don't understand, you told me stop taking things so seriously and thinking so much, but then you said I shouldn't take YOU seriously, which is a conundrum in the making.
And that bit about that poet guy reminded of another song:
Oscar Wilde died in bed
Several floors above my head
Living well beyond his means
In that crazy Paris scene
Rain falls down in sheets so clear
No one ever calls me here
Traveling by my self these days
I'm into jazz and felt berets
Far from the that old eastern shore
Searching for strange metaphorsThis is where I always start singing along:
I don't want to be another victim of fashion
I don't want to see my name in the paper each day
Leave that to the young Turks
They're more handsome and dashing
Posing for paparazzis down Laguna way
Down in the metro I feel the world start to multiply
Bastille, rubber wheels, spiked heels, subterranean lullaby
Met an African prancer, a hemisphere dancer
Spied the ghost of Brassens
We smiled at the secret we shared
And I hid it like contrabandAnd the Chorus!
Quietly making noise, making noise
Starts with kindergarten toys
Not too soft not too loud
Just enough to draw a crowd
Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise!Well that cheered me right up!
Parrothead-ism cures my blues.
Game Over, if that story is your idea of a romance, then wow, I don't really know what to say to that, besides that I'm not the only one around here who should get out a bit more. Believe it or not, I mean that in a good way.
Still, you're right: there's very little in the world worth taking completely seriously. And while there's nothing I can do about the missing chromosome, I'm sure you have plenty of Brain Cells in that chrome dome of yours. Friends now?
This post has been edited by DreamerM: 14 March 2008 - 07:12 PM