NANCY JONES TALKS GEORGE JONES THE LOST NASHVILLE SESSIONS

* Seriously? Is this your portfolio?! 
I'm here for gear, not...
Bad jokes.

* Portfoldeo, eh?
Sounds fancy!

Now buy sommet or
SCRAM!

Knack-Market

Hollowed out holes for critters amidst the Aspens,
Flash-Flood Zone where winter catch & refreeze.
Cats, out a bag from riverboats in the backwoods,
habitat imagined as lawless and non-concrete.
Down came the rain, repaving the kittens path,
when an accident involving a series of falling trees-
cauterwaul, crying, alone on a sinking island:
"That's a catamount, no doubt, of likes which we have never seen!"

Cue cute bones who rattlin' up the riptide,
Joey on the boat throwing radar off fritz.
Stowed to a cove, where cattle roam on the outskirts,
hidden in a cavern where satellites couldn't frisk.
Cats out a bag & one is completely backwards, 
"Go Miss Durry!"- she hurries home from the bridge,
with a trash can in tow & handlers on the phone,
knows "-visiting city limits is risky to life & limb".
Sprints, through the sticks like a fire to a spit-roast.
Gets, to the crib, draggin' dinner to 'em dry throats. 
Six revolutions round the sun & moon, soon them whiskers grew big, wasn't living just to tip-toe.
Ship, got a grip, had to pivot from the hidey-hole.
Paralytic trip to the center where disease controlled. 
Enter at your own brisk, pace in amazement. 
Storm drains, sky-scrapes, calvacade of pizza rolls.

Cats, out a cave & they following a Paragon, through marathons of back-alley California-Babylon.
Paddle on,dog they passing a nuke like atom bombs.
Microwaves stayin in castles beyond their echelons. 
Dialog lost, like Babel when strays prattle long-
apple to an orange pith, a corpus in a magnetron. 
All along, napsters were saddled in Seattle fog.
Catalog like bats & echolocate the catch-all.

Cats in a cage made of steel & brick.
Go Miss Durry, for your own survival. 
Came from the woods to the hood in clique,
so ticks get tossed across domiciles.
Cops in a car, an alarming shift, it's no mystery why the kids get riled.

Piled up years of hanging with the Marsupial, moving low, burrow to a borough every frigid cold.
Surely more than dumb luck, she shoo 'em from the Fool's Gold.
Rolling through one man's trash to treasure every scrap thrown. 
Cats go, wild & spiral out tales like Gilgamesh:
"Demon-headed feline tracking Key-Lime from the wilderness".
Built a nest: bigger than any bird they could bicker with.
Even sewer vermin were quick to purchase her cigarettes. 
Shit was in business, became official. 
Miss Durry led the sermon but her words were simple. 
"Miss no ship when a soul needs saving-" & "Birthdays spent in the dumps aren't wasted...".

And that's when shadows that go bump in the night had dispatched amidst the chateau an impassionate design.
Cats in a cage while the rain water rise... 
and then they screamed, surprised-

Go Miss Durry it's your mother-fuckin' birthday!
Run Miss Durry! In the mother-fuckin' worst way!
Killers with a bag & a submarine fleet.
Gunnin' through the city at a cat that don't sleep. 
Go Miss Durry it's your mother-fuckin' birthday!
Run Miss Durry! In the mother-fuckin' worst way!
Killers gettin' cash after "cleaning up the streets".
One man's trash is another cat's dream. (x2)


Go Miss Durry it's your mother-fuckin' birthday!
Run Miss Durry like they'll pulp you to a puree!
Canines on track for the killers on fleek.
Better run it back 'fore the cats in the creek.
Go Miss Durry it's your mother-fuckin' birthday!
Run Miss Durry for the sake of what is Earthly!
Just an overpass, into rainwater leap.
Scally-wag cats, cauterwaul from beneath.


Miss Durry

Snippet of, Possible, If Possible, A Possum

Newest single release from Zero 610 & Notions

PHANTOM GANG x EVERYTHING EXCLUSIVE

New tracks tagged #Possum