Stop Making Sense
I'm suppose to do the blog tomorrow, but today i'm on desk, so i'm going to do it now. This blog is dedicated to the Talking Heads:
What's in a name? Is it Just a game? Or are we just the same, a little tame. Point your finger, who do you blame? I've got the ringer, a jar of shame. The sun shines when it rains, and then grow the grains. Who is here? Known for Cheer, drinking beer, alone an ion in fear. That hit the deer, in the clearing. What's that i'm hearing? A shout? A whisper? The air seems crisper? The house is burning, as the world is turning. Growing fern on the trunk, that tree is drunk off injections of lead, as i lay my head in the bed of the dead. Nuff Said "G." Is it a he or she, going pee and saying wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I agree with the bubble bee. Are you aware of the bear? Or do i dare to scare the people at the fair singing like John Mayer, as your heart i tear, but do you care? Don't you know, i move slow, cause i cut my toe, just too watch it grow. And so, here i go running like your foe, screaming at the top of my lungs: MY NAME IS JOE! MY NAME IS JOE! MY NAME IS jOE!
Urber duber try lichsygone urn miche do lakah un miago
Daryn