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"I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got this plastic Jesus
Sitting on the dashboard of my car
Comes in colours pink and pleasant
Glows in the dark cos
He's irridescent
Take him with you when you travel far

Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones
Sitting on
A pedestal of abalone shell
Goin ninety
I ain't scary
Cos I got the ****** Mary
Assuring me
That I wont go to Hell

Get yoursef a sweet madonna
Dressed in rhinestones
Sitting on
A pedestal of abalone Shelley
GOING NINETY
I AINT SCARY
COS I GOT THE ****** MARY
ASSURING ME
THAT I WONT GO TO HELL."
The story goes the director asked Newman to sing and play the song.after Luke hears of his mothers death,he didn't sing or play so asked if that could be the last scene filmed to give him time to get a rough grip on the banjo. It's on YouTube under "cool hand Luke plastic Jesus" crushingly beautifully sad.
Swanlight shatters dusk,
fractured gold on silent waves,
love sinks, sings, returns.

🌊🦢💛✨
How many frying pans will you buy and throw out?
Especially now they are worth a ****
I've had two in the last eighteen months
My own fault remorse
Short sighted reasoning
Is par for the course
To bite the bullet and go long
Has you singing
An environmentalist song.
The meaning of creative breath.
No one sees them,
they're the source of oxygen.
They nourish with thoughts,
symbols, and visions.
Don't ignore it.
What flows through us
is beyond us, and next to us.
"Did anyone see you come in?"

"No, my dearest."

"Oh! You've brought me daffodils!"

"Golden trumpets for a golden gal."

"At this rate, our secret love will be no secret anymore."

"Shut up and kiss me."
Give me something
solid to lean upon,
a dream to unlock
a thousand variables,
let me hear the battle
in your voice, the
theatrical expression
of your vengefulness,
let me wash the war
paint from your
pure - white - skin,
let me read your
obscene letters of lust,
let me witness the
sacrifice of your touch,
let me feel the absence
of your love,
let me miss you,
let me leave it as it is
- unfinished …
Clay.M
He's was drinking like a senior ****
In the bunker June 45
Staving off the foul inevitable
To face his actions
When alive
Half a mile from ground zero
Two minute warning
A minute past
Like Hetfield said
Take a look at the sky
For it will be your last
The terrible is arriving
see the widening infernal plain
They've traced the call
They are coming
To make him wear his blame.
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