Lucy Wills

Lucy Wills didn’t outlive her man George. Perhaps one morning she served him cold porridge.

Or maybe he died after too many beers. But it seems he lived for about 7 more years.

Maybe he caught her with the local milkman. Or maybe she hit him with a frying pan.

Perhaps he saw red and flew of the handle and extinguished her flame just like a candle.

Or maybe she died in a world topsy turvy. Maybe she left because she caught scurvy.

I feel like she loved him and he was heartbroken. We never know when it’s our turn for croakin.

So send a telegram to those that you love. For life is as fragile as the wings of a dove.

I polished my brain

I polished my brain with a chamois cloth.

I feel energetic. Less like a sloth.

It’s pretty easy to shine your brain.

It takes a scalpel and some very clean rain.

A steady hand and an unfoggy mirror.

Think of folks you love, don’t think of The F├╝hrer.

Eat a carrot so your vision is true.

Slice away -the blood looks blue.

Stitch your face with a map-like pattern.

Form a ring on your skull, just like Saturn.

Shine your brain and you’ll never perish.

We are beautiful zombies – though slightly garish.

Sensible touring?

I’m giving the finger to sensible geography when it comes to touring.

These tour dates make no sense if you consider the fact that Alberta Canada is far from San Clemente. But I agreed to these gigs. What does that say about me? I guess that I just love playing live shows. I always have. Why stop now? Why why why? Not till they pry my guitar from my cold dead hands.

Glass Go!

Hey dude- just walk down the alley till you get to the blue wall. There’s a silver lining waiting for you inside the garage on the right. I left some scones and some clotted cream, a kettle and some loose leaf tea. Boil some water, steep the tea and we can march to the beat of our own drummers that wait inside our brains for the concert to start. Glasgow. Glass glow. Glass go! Let’s go.