Last night we did gig, with not numerous audience arrivals. OK, sort of like rehearsal in pub. Who was there was nice, altogether two or three tables and a few chairs. Anyway in the lights it is analogous being alone. It is an agreeing feeling, I hear here that is why a kangaroo is might be hit by a car. Such attracting to the warm beam, so nowhere to go, couple of people watching, and they say maybe when we die it is the same.
Our Actual Russian Brides à la mode cover of Blame It On The Rain in spite of this absolutely attracted to the balcony like flies on kangaroo meat. These are not paying customers so their approach is not authenticate, however is good they adored the music.
Looking for our next cover song, I become aware of a short time ago Judge Dread died with a heart attack on stage. I like lyrics to Big Six. Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, her knickers all tattered and torn. It wasn’t a spider who sat down beside her—was Little Boy Blue with the horn! This allowed me look up who as well has died on stage, looking in the light. Pop is death defying. We will have album soon, whole audience to attend us staying alive.