Lance.
Lance!!
“Lance!!! Wake The Fuck UP!!”
“Huh? Why? For what?”
“The day has broke!”
“Then brake it! Then go fuck it.”
(Lance on RrR from Iraq…i.e. don’t give one shit.)
*******
Lance…is all over some place.
“What’s wrong with Lance?”
“Dunno”
“Is he scrazy?”
“Most probably.”
“What to do?”
“Walk quietly away…”
“Good call.”
“Hey! Wanna catch a beer?”
“Yup.”
**************
And the beat goes on…
ladala lalea-lee, ladaleelaa…ladelah….
This comment…going into the Wall of Fame.
Thanks.
Seriously
Thanks
My aunt once babysat the woman now known as Cher… her childhood wasn’t what she now claims it was. But she was once supremely, uh, well, something to consider in that way that only a woman you know nothing about can be. đ
Cher, that is, not my evil aunt who will live forever because heaven won’t have her, hell is afraid of her, and the ants won’t get within a dozen yards of her carcass even if it’s covered in maple syrup.
“Talkin’ ’bout my generation…”
(I think that was a song…)
Cheers Mr. Mark
We love yu.
–Lance-The-…fill in the blank..
Yup. Our generation, Lance. I got the same feeling.
We rock on, best we can.
Cheerios!
“Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain. La de da de dee, la de da de dah”
Love the song.
Beer in hand.
Here’s to rhythm!