Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
To avoid the legal nets that entangled Bernie Goetz, just yell "Help! Help! Police!" like Kitty Genovese.
Spacehog? You listen to Spacehog? Damn, Ma'am, I thought I was the only old Queen fan who saw them as the second coming of Freddie Mercury and Brian May. The boys do make the miles disappear in the rear view mirror. My daughter finds it amusing that I listen to them. But when she's cranking "Play The Game" or "Bicycle Race" she doesn't notice the incongruety.
Elastic Tater? I've had French fries at some places that would match that description.
We've got a search tool at work - the query builder. I always hear "the queer rebuilder."
Did Spacehog ever put out any other albums as good as their first?
Not to my knowledge.
Anytime I get the chance to read the lyrics of old songs, especially rock-n-roll, I find that what I thought I heard is not exactly what they sang. Sometimes I discover this when listening to the radio, which is puzzling.
Interesting. When I get to work in the morning, the earworm dispenser in my head sometimes pops out lyrics for Pink Floyd's 'Brain Damage' set to tune of "Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town".WV: kompkz"No, officer. I'm most certainly not decompensating. No sir."
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