pass the dutchie on the left hand side

Some words to remember me by

A Piece Of Me

I’ve walked the line, spent some time in a heartbreak hotel, and another called California, riding the lightning while dancing to the beat of the master of puppets.
I’ve been on a stairway to heaven and fallen off onto a highway to hell.
I’ve been welcomed to the jungle and been told to nevermind. Just take a jagged little pill and it will seem like paradise city.
Ive come across the wall, and had to break on through to the other side. Just to sit down in a roadhouse with my blues, and listen to the piano man while throwing whiskey in the jar. That’s where I heard a story about a guy named Bobby Magee, and from then on in, the story teller had a piece of my heart.
I took a walk on the wild side while thinking about a space oddity and dudes that look like ladies with names like Lola.
I’ve woken to the rooster, next to Alice in chains, and heard that Jeremy had spoken to some stone temple pilots about using Jeffersons aeroplane to fly me and the white rabbit to Texas to see a bunch of butthole surfers about some good vibrations.
I was sitting on the dock of the bay with my girl, when I heard it through the grape vine that school was out for summer. So we passed the dutchie pon the left hand side as we found a deep purple haze, where I excused myself so I could kiss the sky.
I walked through Scarborough fair and ran in a field of crimson and clover, but there was no Holly there, the Holly had died. There I listened to the sound of silence, which was indeed a quiet riot, and waited for a bad moon rising. I wasn’t there to bark at the moon though, I thought I’d leave that to the animals. So I left to make it to the house for the rising sun, while listening to the werewolves of London.
I dropped some stone roses on a heart of glass just to hear the clash, then sat and listened to Nico talk of all tomorrow’s parties. We went together, she looked like a Venus in furs and wore diamonds on the soles of her shoes. Mine were blue suede, good for walking down Abbey Road.
I met The Gambler, but it was ok because as luck would have it, I carried around the ace of spades. I won it in a pinball competition against a kid named Tommy.
It was a hard days night, but getting better all the time, on a magical mystery tour with Eleanor Rigby. At times I asked myself, should I stay or should I go, but there was something in the way she moved that made me unable to stay away.
Run around Sue, Mustang Sally and Maggie McGill talked about Jane’s addiction. I listened to closely, and before I knew it, I too was hooked. Jane says it’s often that way, once a Farrell seed takes root in your mind.
I met the man who sold the world. He had a black dog, and didn’t fear the reaper. He’d been in his iron maiden before, and showed me the scar tissue to prove it. Don’t worry, he said, the first cut is the deepest.
I learned to relax, not be paranoid. I had brass in pocket and knew how to make money on skid row. Yes I was a bit of a youth gone wild, but never really was bad to the bone.
I tried prefab sprouts once, but it only made me hungry like the wolf. So I had to go into my soundgraden and find some red hot chilli peppers to stop my appetite for destruction. It may sound crazy for you, but even though I’ve remained a wildthing, I’ve been in nirvana ever since.
I never fell for the leader of the pack, but did join the black rebel motorcycle club and saw Brian at the jones town massacre. The black angels death song was playing, but now I listen to the black angels sing the boat song.
I got up, stood up, stood up for my rights and took down a big big tree with my small axe. Then me and three little birds had a soul shakedown party because the sun was shining, and the weather was sweet.
I’ve been the wanderer, just like a rolling stone. That’s where I met a black magic woman, and Nina told me I was a sinnerman. That was fine, because I was already a voodoo child. And it was never about the power of love anyway. I was just her part time lover, but we’d always come together.
I was told you can go your own way, free falling, like a free bird, but to always fight for my rights to party.
I heard that mothers little helper can stop her having a 19th nervous breakdown, and if I can’t get no satisfaction, then go and see Ruby Tuesday.
I’m happy Mondays, but Monday I have Friday on my mind because Friday I’m in love, even though I’m easy like Sunday morning.
I have been seen in black velvet, but really I’m forever in blue jeans, with boots that were made for walking, on the bright side of the road.
I ran to the hills, bumped into the preacher man, he was a bohemian with a rapacity and gave me some double talkin’ jive. But I had to tell him I have faith no more, I was losing my religion. And besides, to more people today, god is a DJ. I’m far more comfortable talking with the pixies anyway.
I got the bends once, I was rolling in the deep on a dreadlock holiday. That was after I had breakfast in America. I loved the cranberries and cream.
I’m hot in the city, never a coldplayer, you’ll never catch me living on a prayer and I don’t dig teenage dirtbags, but have been known to do some kung fu fighting. And when the music’s over, I’ll turn out the lights.
I went to the west side to hear a story. The same place where I learned to step in time, and pick a pocket or two.
I’m cool for cats, I love cats, even the stray cats. They take away the moody blues. They were actually the cure for a bad boy named Leroy Brown. He wasn’t that bad anyway, he just got a bit dizzy at times, talking about his generation.
I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name where I found a much talked about oasis, but to be honest, I’d seen it all before. After that I hit the road with Jack and ended up being the passenger in a convoy doing some good old fashion truckin’.
I met a guy, he was a bit slim, and shady, and quite partial to the odd m&m. I asked him how far he’d walked and he told me eight mile. He looked like a a bit of a n.e.r.d. but man, was he fucking hostile. The guy with him was a doctor, he came straight out of Compton.
I wondered, if only the good die young, does that make them the grateful dead, or would they get back if they could?
I thought there was going to be anarchy in the U.K. when I heard the guns of Brixton being drawn. Could I stop the English civil war if I stepped in and told them that them running around like war pigs is the kind of thing that makes doves cry?
I’m a singer in the rain, a rider on the storm, and I’ve moondanced all the way to Uncle Tom’s cabin. I found Molly’s chambers inside. She was a summer girl and her hair was golden brown, with a texture like sun, even when there ain’t no sunshine.
Well I hope I haven’t left you dazed and confused by all of this, it’s been fun sharing the odd day in the life, and I hope I haven’t taken it one step beyond. And if I have, well I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden.
This is the end. :)))

By steveatlarge

Take it easy my friends