Convenient History For A Bigot Blues.mp3
Standard and tongue in cheek, though the sentiment, and the blues behind this, is very very real.
Blues. Used to busk. Thankyou for looking March 2021. Love/art/blues/Rob. So, musical diary
Pardon? How can I interview me?
Some streets are better than others? Some highways are brighter than others. Time of day, find a state of mind, imagination, TV, 1920s. I write about love, lost or found, hopefully honestly inspired by love, and try to play better for that. When younger protested about behaviours on my radar, and of course, being a simple artist, surfing the great times I imagine I had in another life, or maybe one day this one!
Story behind the song
Tongue in cheek reverb blues.
Standard and tongue in cheek, though the sentiment, and the blues behind this, is very very real.
The Robot Is Not Dead by 2979 AD
There are some bastards out there wanting to 'defeat' all the old pot heads, without any proof at all, and, as I am the giant tree yet to wreck myself, they, and their mates, are going to just sit there all day slandering me. Real cowards. They sent a really weird anonymous message my way claiming they represent the police, and , believe it or not , me.
Their latest lie, I'm told, and it's probably recycled, is that they can now claim half the historical drug problems of Perth on me, as they now see themselves as middle class and no longer bullies. Thus the song.
If you know these frauds please know it's all a crock. I have not a clue who they and their damn mates are, and they are all very cleverly lying through their teeth. It's a game to become the sharpest knives, ever, in the West Australian pig draw. that is, if pigs is what they actually are, and seeing as they likely just sit there spying all day on me exclusively that is highly unlikely. Psychopaths will like their murder hole. They invented the role I'm forced to play. They force me to work like crazy to defend myself. They made the pain I live in. They are a deliberate schizophrenia whilst claiming I actually suffer the disease.
They are going to try and parrot me for their fame, and my pain, while implying the world, and implying I'm a nothing. Every word out of their mouths is some sort of lie even if it's me and my family, verbatim. It's a massive cruelty, and I suspect ordinary folk are being fooled and allowing these psychopaths their sway, all on their system and history of successful lies about me. After Dad died I'm not so concerned about my reputation, if people are wondering why I didn't complain earlier, such as a decade ago, when news of these twice removed from the public sphere cool as punch humourless bastards first filtered down to me concerning their slaughter. They spit at God and at life. They have NEVER contributed to consciousness in any sense, EVER. They are illiterate thugs. Deliberately. Words per minute I'll bet. Claiming to be a big lug mother consciousness I'll bet. Right royal princesses.
I don't even know their names, and I suspect they are spying on me continuously and threatening my family.
They are fronts for men. And they likely sound real good at it. And up themselves. HARD. It's a neat trick I'll bet.
This song spontaneously at 15 02 13, around 7.30 a.m., while spies wait to be 'men' on my zumba heart condition blues.
Right now slanderers are dreaming of putting me in an ankle bracelet, for no reason, and calling me a bastard. And they intend to rape my name by back stabbing my character and good deeds all day long
and night.
In relays.
No is a word that utterly confuses them.
And this is no, whoever they are. And that is a definite no to them all today, and all tonight, and every second from here on, FOREVER.
Watch. They'll refuse to talk about or look at anyone else. Winner pigs. A group psychosis, and I'm not their Daddy issue psychiatrist. Winner piggies. In every sense of the word. My faith in justice flies out the window. They always considered themselves cooler than me, and my betters, even without ever looking me in the eye. I still have not a clue who they are. An entire decade they have regarded me as an enemy, and mad, and something to be in love withy, and something to be repressed. With zero proof other than their own clever spying and say so. My innocence may be loud, but they plan to get louder.
I'm not afraid of them. I've done nothing to be ashamed of.
I plan to run interference all day. They'll enjoy that. Any foul language out their mouths. They'll enjoy it. With a frown. Enjoy it with a frown. Cleverest slanderers ever.
Lyrics
15 02 13, around 7.30 a.m., while spies wait to be 'men'.
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