Magic potion
Extroversion
Release.
Rushing erratically about
Mad to live, mad to die
Scream and shout
Tango in the sky.
Ride the yellow carriage
Meet a beautiful stranger
Talk of love and marriage
Maybe we can get together?
Our tongues were electric needles
Performing dances of magic intensity
The ball rolled slowly up the alley …
I gave it up …
I didn’t score.
Sickness is the dawn of pain.
I wrote this either while suffering my worst drunk ever, at Ft. Gordon, or immediately thereafter when I was so sick I probably should have been hospitalized. It’s based on what I remember of the night.
