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Movies for Rent
  • Artist: Jeff Richard
  • Label: CD Baby
  • UPC: 634479067907
  • Item #: SRD906790
  • Genre: Rock
  • Release Date: 12/14/2004
  • This product is a special order
  • Rank: 1000000000
CD 
List Price: $11.98
Price: $10.05
You Save: $1.93 (16%)

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Description

Movies for Rent on CD

IN THE NAME OF CIVIC PROTECTION YOU'RE SPRAYING X-RAYS IN MY DIRECTION Adolf Sanders came by and told me about the happy monkey from Spain, the one with the silver chain around it's neck who sits on Charlie the moustash grinder's lap; 'Poet huh?' he said, 'Stop the clock! I gotta lotta second stage surrogate boys here who want to meet you and learn about your walk along the golden path of autumn leaves and such, even though it's summertime.' Spring, when the girls are pretty and the city pulls it's weight (about 145lbs) and traps young men and pulls money from their pockets, defining them as forever broke while the girls from the city who, by the way are quite pretty, take their place by the niceness parlor rejuvenating their niceness and rose colored lips. Tom, the other man, has a place in the country where he keeps a dog and a couple of red ink pens. This I stay away from, being a countryfied city boy, because my standards are clearer to me now that I've begun my leather years... yes, the leather years, years of leather, light as the weather and little cousin Heather; the one I'll protect no matter which atom that may try to attack her. My lightyears are heavy now. Watch for me, sweet Charity, while I detune the compass and drive our ramble home. I jump aboard the Delta Line, Mr. Goode ain't too far behind. Tattoos on my mind, that girl I left behind. Cruel, cruel U (yeah that's her). Mr. Goode and Mr. Evil eating bagels across the street at the little shop of bagels. I smell 'em, burnin' on the hot greasy grill. I'm watchin' the Movies I've rented from the guy in the movie kiosk at the airport before the flight (get 'em right before the flight!). It's too late to love ya now, I'm stuck in a quagmire blues, payin' my dues. One more mile to go and I'll be stoned again by the rock throwing rollers who dwell down by the river in a nice little shack I built from straw and matchsticks. They say they like it so I like it. Dog breath, what can I say? I should be sleeping but you know I ain't.