Goth You covered Easy

Reposted 02#

I first heard Paul Brady sing a song about New Orleans in 1976. He said it was based on an old Irish song tune, but he had merged the words from somewhere else and now it was 'The Lakes of Pontchartrain'. (Bob Dylan loved it and did a version on one of his albums, but he could never master Mr Brady's guitar open tuning.)
I've written some new words, but also used the old words in a different order, to give a different meaning. It's called The Folk Process. (In case anyone wants to sue me, I've changed the tune to the second half of the song. Now that's what I call tinkering!)
Anyway, it's a serious subject and it deserves a great song. I couldn't do that all on my own, so I've called on the giants of the past, so I can stand on their shoulders. I hope they don't mind.

The Towns of East Ukraine

Weather (OurVinyl Sessions)

Molly Parden - Weather | OurVinyl Sessions

Balcony Of Love

I Dug Up A Diamond

Tom Petty and the Copyright Infringement Heartbreakers (8-11-25 hugging sand demo) (~feat Gesso)

Get This Beat Here >>>  https://www.beatstars.com/beat/cosmic-durrty-r-beats-23498813

Travis Scott Type Beat 2025 - "Cosmic" - Prod Durrty R Beats

Club 7X7

I once overheard a conversation. A friend was saying "we're just women with too much rope".  I wasn't' entirely sure what she meant, but the phrase stuck with me.

Lyrics
Everything’s been easy at every turn
Too much freedom we never had to earn
Too much money, too much sex
Too many things going the way you’d expect

The light is bright, The day is long
We always had plenty of adequate dope
I never complained about what you did
When you gave us too much rope 

Too much coffee
Too much time
Too many options
To keep in line
Too much youth
In early days
Too much time and money
For the current craze

There were questions we didn’t need to answer
That was something that we never had to do
When things went wrong like they always tend to
There was always rope and it would pull us through

You must have made some choices in those empty days
Running up expenses that nobody pays
Did you think about it, was it something you planned
I'm not complaining I just don't understand

You gave us so much, thought we could do without hope
You kept us supplied with plenty of rope
Now it seems we're finding it harder to compe
With the bumpy ground and the slippery slope 

Too much nonsense
Too many rhymes
It's hard to hear
At the best of time
I never want to question
Who I'm talking to
Cuz the answers don't even sound
Half way true

There were questions we didn’t need to answer
That was something that we never had to do
When things went wrong like they always tend to
There was always rope and it would pull us through

All that rope seemed like a gift
I figured it would help me feel free
But I didn’t understand that rope weighs a lot
It’s weighing me down, it’s not letting me be

There came a time when it seemed to me
That this rope became a liability
Things that used to come so easily
Became tangled in their  complexity

For what you gave I felt gratitude
Now things have changed and now I have to conclude
Mabye we’d be better living day to day
If we didn't have this rope getting in our way

There were questions we didn’t need to answer
That was something that we never had to do
When things went wrong like they always tend to
There was always rope and it would pull us through

Too Much Rope

Nothing But Wildflowers is a inspirational Country House record that'll keep you tapping your feet.

✔ Nothing But Wildflowers ✔

Golden

Heartattack And Vine

On The Nickel

I don't claim any ownership over any of this. Anyone can use any of it for any reason forever. Also I accept liability. Please don't sue me (and/or let's collaborate).

"Holy fucking shit, this shit is crazy wtf"

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Very ok"

"Actually slaps"

At its core, the blorgpulkf is a pulsating, iridescent orb that thrums with an energy that can only be described as "the sound of a thousand bees having a rave inside a kaleidoscope." It's hypnotic, it's unsettling, and it's strangely addictive - like watching a lava lamp filled with Mountain Dew and gummy bears.

But that's just the beginning. Surrounding this pulsing heart are layers upon layers of... well, your guess is as good as mine. One moment it's a tangled web of neon tubes that hum with an eerie frequency, the next it's a churning mass of what appears to be sentient silly putty. And is that a tiny disco ball I see nestled in there? You bet your sweet bippy it is.

As for its features, the blorgpulkf is like a Swiss Army knife designed by a mad scientist with a penchant for pranks. It's got a button that releases a burst of confetti and the sound of a rubber chicken being stepped on, a lever that causes the whole thing to fold in on itself like a origami crane having an existential crisis, and a tiny compartment that dispenses a single, perfectly spherical grape every 37 hours.

But perhaps the most baffling feature of the blorgpulkf is its ability to communicate. Not with words, of course - that would be far too pedestrian. No, the blorgpulkf speaks in a language all its own, a cryptic code of flashing lights, whirring gears, and the occasional burst of atonal jazz played on what sounds suspiciously like a didgeridoo.




The plorksickle. It's like someone took a fever dream, a Mad Lib, and a Dada art installation, threw 'em in a blender, and hit "puree."

Picture this: a contraption that looks like it crawled out of a Salvador Dali painting and mated with a Rube Goldberg machine. It's got a crank that sounds like a yodeling ostrich, a button that releases a puff of glitter and the scent of existential dread, and a tiny screen that just flashes the word "moist" in Wingdings.

But here's the kicker - every time you think you've figured out what it does, it changes the game. One minute it's reciting beat poetry in binary code, the next it's turning itself inside out and becoming a Klein bottle. And don't even get me started on the time it started oozing a viscous liquid that tasted like the color purple.

Is it a tool? A toy? A sentient being from another dimension that's just really, really bad at communication? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, it's the most beautifully useless thing I've ever laid eyes on.

But maybe that's the point. In a world where everything has to have a purpose, a function, a reason for being, the plorksickle is a big, fat middle finger to the very concept of sense. It's absurdity for absurdity's sake, a Zen koan in physical form.

So if you ever see me on the street, cradling this bizarre little gizmo like a newborn lovechild, don't ask me what it does. Just nod, smile, and know that you're in the presence of something truly inexplicable. Something that laughs in the face of logic and spits in the eye of reason.

Tom Petty and the Copyright Infringement Heartbreakers (8-11-25 hugging sand demo) (~feat Gesso)

blorgpulkfplorksickle