I want to go with the one I love.
I do not want to calculate the cost.
I do not want to think about whether it's good.
I do not want to know whether he loves me.
I want to go with whom I love.
i am writing this from the past...i was
walking home drunk the other night and
found an Einstein-Rosen bridge in the
trash...when i saw it i knew what it was
and that i shouldnt touch it...i was
dumb...so i am in moscow russia...the
year is 1965...if i had a choice between
talking to jenny for 1 minute or a crate
full of lipstick, beatles albums, and
bluejeans...i would go with the minute
with jenny...you ask me how i am writing
this from russia in the past??? none of
your business
Two thousand years from now, long after some
pioneers built the first casino in AC, people the
world over will stand around by fires and share
good cheer with one another drinking
whoknow'swhatmadefromsoybeans and they'll
say, "To Jenny." And the rest will reply, in unison,
"To Jenny." They'll drink. They'll get drunk. They'll
spit watermellon seeds at each other and go home
to their beds made of straw and bits of rock. I'm
telling you, the girl is eternal.
The girl that stole the klan from kluxers, red
from apple, blue from screamin' jay, legs
from crazy... well, she's really done it this
time. She put the right back in wrong,
grabbed the strings when nobody was
looking and fried the system along side two
eggs with the yolks up and just enough
jiggle to hurt someone. She 'll be married in
32 countries under 31 names by January,
eating humans like pumpkins and spitting
the seeds in every flower pot from here to
Delhi. Go Jenny go, you wild Arkansas,
friend to coward and heathen all, get on this
train and don't pull the brake until after we've
run out of track....
jenny is to graphic design what les paul is to
guitar, what peanut butter is to jelly, what
punk is to rock. that is to say she's electric,
tasty and anti-establishment. there would be
no magenta maids without this girl. for
serious.
These here are some things everyone
should know about Jenny. When we was
kids, she was pastor McGregor's favorite of
the flock, on account of always being the first
at service and the last to leave. She went to
Mrs. Weatherby's everyday on the way
home from school to see that she was well
and not hungry or dying from thirst and she
even brought old Weatherby in for show and
tell one day and introduced her to the class
as her grandmother, which was real nice
and only a white lie since that sweet old
woman wanted more than anything to have
her own grandchildren but couldn't on
account of being incompetent or impotent or
some such thing they called you when your
parts wasn't all the way in order. She also
liked to wrastle me to the ground, scissors
lock me til I passed out, and then fart on my
head. I miss you Jenny. When you s'po'd to
be comin home anyway?
walking home drunk the other night and
found an Einstein-Rosen bridge in the
trash...when i saw it i knew what it was
and that i shouldnt touch it...i was
dumb...so i am in moscow russia...the
year is 1965...if i had a choice between
talking to jenny for 1 minute or a crate
full of lipstick, beatles albums, and
bluejeans...i would go with the minute
with jenny...you ask me how i am writing
this from russia in the past??? none of
your business
pioneers built the first casino in AC, people the
world over will stand around by fires and share
good cheer with one another drinking
whoknow'swhatmadefromsoybeans and they'll
say, "To Jenny." And the rest will reply, in unison,
"To Jenny." They'll drink. They'll get drunk. They'll
spit watermellon seeds at each other and go home
to their beds made of straw and bits of rock. I'm
telling you, the girl is eternal.
from apple, blue from screamin' jay, legs
from crazy... well, she's really done it this
time. She put the right back in wrong,
grabbed the strings when nobody was
looking and fried the system along side two
eggs with the yolks up and just enough
jiggle to hurt someone. She 'll be married in
32 countries under 31 names by January,
eating humans like pumpkins and spitting
the seeds in every flower pot from here to
Delhi. Go Jenny go, you wild Arkansas,
friend to coward and heathen all, get on this
train and don't pull the brake until after we've
run out of track....
guitar, what peanut butter is to jelly, what
punk is to rock. that is to say she's electric,
tasty and anti-establishment. there would be
no magenta maids without this girl. for
serious.
should know about Jenny. When we was
kids, she was pastor McGregor's favorite of
the flock, on account of always being the first
at service and the last to leave. She went to
Mrs. Weatherby's everyday on the way
home from school to see that she was well
and not hungry or dying from thirst and she
even brought old Weatherby in for show and
tell one day and introduced her to the class
as her grandmother, which was real nice
and only a white lie since that sweet old
woman wanted more than anything to have
her own grandchildren but couldn't on
account of being incompetent or impotent or
some such thing they called you when your
parts wasn't all the way in order. She also
liked to wrastle me to the ground, scissors
lock me til I passed out, and then fart on my
head. I miss you Jenny. When you s'po'd to
be comin home anyway?