Some song lyrics misheard over the cafe hubbub…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s existential angst is centred around the sound of the word ‘mulch’. (M)

‘Girl, I spat on a Sunday…’
‘Love colours know weeping.’
‘Oh, one moment, melt me goo…’
‘Baby, slide to me-ee.’
‘Now me, now me, witty keep me-ee…’
‘Coo-oo-oo, mm-mm-mm…’
‘You bedda be-ee, you bedda be-ee.’
‘Gotta be whoo, see me count down!’
‘Beat in de-oh, dipco-coo!’
‘Your palms – all-out rage girl.’
‘Blay blay, in your trapdoor…’
‘So what did I yeah?’
‘I don’t want poultry.’
‘Abbaloo day-glo woman…’
‘Here I am, here I am, here I am…’
‘All over the up bubba!’
‘Oh, oh, it’s on a three-ee…’
‘Situation round, turn and found me.’
‘Time and nowt and strong no…’
‘Nuthin’ mo to say-yay…’
‘Two-whoo-whoo ah-ah…’
‘Keelong time and taste the day Babe.’
‘Hap-stay, hap-stay…’
‘Gordon toffee on his car…’
‘Oh, never the feel shoe-oo…’

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
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