Monday, January 01, 2007

I'm tired out today after renaming and cropping by hand each all of the Bytten screenshots to the correct size for the new site, that's 716 little jpgs. Christmas has been relaxing but also rather depressing and I've resolved to work all the harder at my creative activities in 2007. I have managed to write a song today, although it's more of a chant with rock guitar bits inbetween. It was inspired by the strange lyrics of Frank Zappa.

My Trumpet Smells Of Porridge But My Dog Still Blew It

Sitting in my car with a cabbage and a bunny.
The doctor and his monkey think the moon is funny.
Playing my guitar with bit of black bone.
The wizard on the mountain never uses his phone.
Lying on the beach with a sad woman's daughter.
The only way to save the world is drink just water.
When Socrates met Goldilocks I don't think he knew it.
My trumpet smells of porridge but my dog still blew it.

Jumping on a duck that is made of rubber.
The chemist had a carrot and a blue pan scrubber.
My liver thinks of Mary in her little brown bed.
The forest in the winter is a little bit dead.
The windy parts of Kazakhstan are lonely but cheap.
Euripides was loony and he never liked sheep.
The secret of a window is to see right through it.
My trumpet smells of porridge but my dog still blew it.

Running for a bus and wearing only high heels.
If God had had a plan he would have given mice wheels.
Throwing my tomatoes at the railway sign.
My sister wants her pudding but she's too young to dine.
The onions laugh at Lennon in his glass cube cage.
The play was only starting when they all left the stage.
The rabbit wants a jigsaw but he won't want to do it.
My trumpet smells of porridge but my dog still blew it.

Hitting a banana with big red sock.
Mister Fallon's mother has a black silk frock.
The teacher talks rubbish with a mouth full of cake.
Singing on a submarine is always a mistake.
The radiator maker has a silver motorbike.
The music was a problem for the knife man's mike.
The princess hadn't thrown her throne until the day she threw it.
My trumpet smells of porridge but my dog still blew it.

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