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Free germs / prompts (if you can write the rest of the song)
Not only do I need somewhere to put them, but I collect so many that they will surely outlive me and thus if anyone gets a nudge towards something from any of the following feel entirely free to help yourself. By the same token, if you wish to share your own as you come across them, please do so.
Comments
Prisoners in Paris were offered their freedom if they married prostitutes and moved to Louisiana.
In 1896, a war between the United Kingdom and the Zanzibar Sultanate lasted 38 minutes. There were 500 casualties.
Goulash... so named because Hungarian criminals were forced to eat the served slop under penalty of the... well, you know.
There's a song in this mood:
Title: Request Mutual Limb Enclosure
https://historymagpie.com/2015/02/04/hagioscopes-and-leper-squints-how-the-church-kept-the-sick-out-of-sight/
Can't find my way home (with sleepy chatter up front...)
Not sure that Nietzsche had much of a singing voice, but there must be something to be done with a sample of this grumbly thought of his:
The state lies in all the tongues of good and evil;
and whatever it says it lies;
and whatever it has it has stolen.
Everything in it is false;
it bites with stolen teeth,
and bites often.
It is false down to its bowels.
I might lose the last line. Not convinced about rock 'n' roll and bowels (rhymes with vowels....), but the rest of it....I dunno....I started off thinking of shouting it in the style of John Simon Ritchie , but I think someone less obvious might be more effective. Sue Lawley, Kirsty Young or maybe Hermione Norris whose voice I have long had a serious crush on.....
Unwritten song title (perhaps ambient):
Soundtrack for open day at an unidentified Black Site
...and the updated Y2k compatible versions:
Or, if you want to keep the noise inside instead:
@rs2000 TELEDISKO! Also a good band name
@Paul16 I like The Isolator but can't help thinking we need the laughing gas pumped in from the cylinder...
Always find great lyrics/story inspiring.
Elephant / Jason Isbell
She said, “Andy, you’re better than your past”.
Winked at me and drained her glass.
Cross-legged on the bar stool, like nobody sits anymore.
She said Andy, you’re taking me home,
but I knew she planned to sleep alone.
I’d carry her to bed and sweep up the hair from the floor.
If I had fucked her before she got sick,
I’d never hear the end of it.
She don’t have the spirit for that now.
We just drink our drinks and laugh out loud.
Bitch about the weekend crowd, and try to ignore the elephant, somehow.
She said, “Andy, you crack me up”,
Seagrams in a coffee cup.
Sharecropper eyes and her hair almost all gone.
When she was drunk she made cancer jokes,
made up her own doctor’s notes.
Surrounded by her family, I saw that she was dying alone.
I’d sing her classic country songs,
and she’d get high and sing along.
She don’t have much voice to sing with now.
We’d burn these joints in effigy, cry about what we used to be.
And try to ignore the elephant somehow.
I buried her a thousand times, giving up my place in line,
but I don’t give a damn about that now
There’s one thing that’s real clear to me,
no one dies with dignity.
We just try to ignore the elephant somehow.
Album cover for unwritten song
A song about the science of how one part of the brain dies and another tries to take up the task, much like an ear trying to do the job of a mouth but never quite knowing how to ask.
I'm not going to do the work for you, but someone should be able to sample these 8 seconds of soundtrack to good effect:
https://ampervadasz.tumblr.com/post/190492235362
Poor little mouse! Scared to death by killer screams.
Huh. A couple of these give me some good inspiration. Will follow up here if/when any get finished.
Friday. Smoking. Coffee. Sun.
Bullet. Herring. Mother. Gun.
Can’t help but think this one’s the one.
Walking. Happy. Get scared. Run.
Title (after Wolfgang Lettl):
13 Attempts to Become a Rooster #5 (oil on fibreboard, 1977)
The Sun is so loud
if space was filled with air
it would be 125db on Earth
92 Million miles away.
On June 4, 1972 Joseph Brodsky left Russia with a suitcase carrying a typewriter, two bottles of vodka, and a collection of poems by John Donne (today displayed in the Anna Akhmatova Museum, Saint Petersburg if you happen to find yourself in the area).
Country (maybe):
How could my heart
feel so heavy
when it’s empty
of you.
How heavy is love?
Depends how much blood is in it.
I don't want people thinking
I said sloppy when I meant slippy
I don't want people eating down
on my boppy baby not my bippy
I'm sorry, there has to be a song in this: Zambian Space Program of the 1960’s whose goal was going to Mars with a “Spacegirl”, two cats, and a Christian missionary.