Made by my head
Music, Ireland. Grey, name. My name. A step ladder. This house was built in a bog. Music is the window. I fell off a step ladder.





Saturday, January 28, 2006

 

Music. Therapy?


I won the lottery. It's in my van. My vocal coach keeps telling me to stop saying that.


I ate some magic beans that doubled my brain power. I started a rock school. Most of the students were people who believe in leprechauns and leprechauns who sat on their shoulders saying, "Yes, you're right to believe in leprechauns. Well done. Well done. Because some people don't believe in leprechauns, but you're right to believe. You're absolutely right to believe. And they're so wrong. So well done. I think you're great to believe in leprechauns." And they eventually say, "Who are you?" Most of the classes were taken up with people listening to the leprechauns on their shoulders tell them how great they are. But I ruined it all when I wrote a song called 'There's a women's prison in my soul'. That's one of the side-effects of the beans.


"Stop saying that too."


Band: Therapy?

Album: Troublegum.


They make other bands look as if they're robots operated by particularly boring mice.


Website:

www.therapyquestionmark.co.uk




He shoots, he scores, he glues himself to a lilac tree. Let's kick him.

A walk in the rain - Poetry. Ireland. Reading the news with no trousers.
Very Slight Stories - Very short stories.
Henry Seaward-Shannon - Slightly longer short-stories.






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