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Now that we’re slowly unpacking the boxes and getting our lives our maybe we’ll get the chance to use and abuse them this weekend and see some new music. Until then here’s a little nugget of joy from your editor:
When I die the only part of St. Pete I’m gonna see
Is the sole of his foot as he boots me off that cloud.
It don’t matter ‘cause in heaven there will be nothing
But up-tempo blues and swing ala Gap ads and Khaki suburbia.
As I plummet the swing will fade to a deeper shade of blue.
The Howlin’ Wolf guarding Hell’s gate
Will not growl at me, no, the gates will swing wide
Lightnin’ will strike
The King of lies will grin
And lick his lips with his Slim Pink tongue
And music to torture the soul will flood forth.
I didn’t chose the right fork at the crossroads,
The juke joint down the wrong path just looked too enticing.
Smokey may be singing up on the roof
But everybody knows the best parties are in the basement.
And while there may be pure white snow on the mountain
I will warm myself by the fires
Down below.

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