It's Sunday morning, quarter til 9, and I am listening to the Violent Femmes, sipping stale coffee. The songs are snarky and adolescent, but fitting, somehow:I dig the black girls,Don't drink much coffee these days - a concession to age and infirmity - and this crap is month's old -but- I'm out of tea and need to power up and help a friend move.
oh so much more than the white girls.
I was so pleased to learn they were faster...
The friend, who shall remain nameless, is moving out of what was his house and into a studio apartment.
Without going into great detail, I'll just say he worked hard, did what he was supposed to do, and was perched on the brink of seemingly imminent and unavoidable success...
Then got the rug pulled out from under him.
...You know I love the lord of hosts,Sing it, baby.
The father, son, and the holy ghost.
I was so pleased to learn that he's inside me
In my time of trouble he will hide me.
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