A man whom I see on the street
Yells "POW!" every time that we meet.
Now I could be mishearing,
But it sounds like he's jeering
The name of a steamed Asian treat.
I had a shocking moment today of realizing something profound and completely bizarre, which is not related to the above limerick. It made my day. It made my week. It may have made my decade. There's this band, see, about which I'm fairly sure I've rhapsodized before. I probably used phrases like "the robot armies of death and destruction" and "oh god what have they done to my brain?" They sing about whiskey, and the devil, and the desert, and I was listening to my most beloved of their songs on repeat on the way to work this morning. I idly tapped my fingers in time to the cacophany, then did a double-take and wondered if I was counting wrong. One two three, one two three... three? Dum da da, dum da da, dum da da, dum da da. Step, step, close. Step, step, close.
It's a waltz. It's a waltz about streets full of dead and the last battle with Satan, and I can't get this grin off my face.Posted by dianna at September 17, 2004 03:37 PM