Friday, October 30, 2020

Overheard at Booth 1: Lyrics to "Friends"


Someone was holding Ramon
I was only taking pictures
Maggie was talking down the phone
Saying the poor get poor and the rich get richer.

And the weather man he said Fair
Weather and smooth sailing ahead
And we headed out to the Tulsa State Fair
Arms locked and singing "Better Off Dead"


Thundering velvet skies ahead

We’re running straight into the storm

The weather man was full of shit

Somehow that’s true to form:

heading to the Gulf Coast

On half a tank of gas

Half a pack of cigarettes and

a whole shitload of sass.

And there is no where to run to

When there is no place to hide,

I’m crossing the county line

with my bestie by my side

[first draft] need to cut these to fit

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