Like an elegant grasshopper wrapped in bacon
Submitted by elliotdm about 5 years ago
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I rode the rods on steam trains with a banjo on my knee
While the voice of Stephen Foster, he whispered songs to me
Of a storefront church and a chain-gang choir, black sorrow filled the air
Then Stephen died on the doss-house floor like a man from god knows where
Submitted by PaulG about 7 years ago
Love is like jazz - you make it up as you go along and you act as if you really know the song but you don't and you never will, so you flaunt your mistakes and you make them until they were you. It's divine; it's asinine; it's depressing and it's almost entirely window dressing, but it'll do.
Submitted by gmehn over 7 years ago
If nothing else works, a total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through.
Submitted by davidrbiggs over 7 years ago
My name is Stephen 'My bottom is a treasure house' Fry.
Submitted by WildeAboutOscar over 7 years ago