Site Meter
Oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space with no time left to start again.
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'cause fire is the devil's only friend.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage my hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in Hell could break that Satan's spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite,
I saw Satan laughing with delight, the day the music died.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Story Bone

That was the day that birthed a thousand orphans.

A thousand orphans were born that day.

In the shadows of the saucers a thousand orphans were born.

The day the saucers came, orphans were born by the thousands.

The scream of saucers masked the birth cry of a thousand orphans.

Take your pick, or any alternative.

2 comments:

Elizabeth said...

I thought that was going to be a poem at first, and then it started looking like one of those responsive psalms in church.

Steve Buchheit said...

I guess they could be read that day. I just wrote down the first line, and then my brain rewrote it. And then rewrote that one, wash, rinse, repeat.