It was a dark and stormy night. It was a night of stormy music. Let my children hear music. Let my children hear dark and stormy music.
It was a dark and stormy night of the living dead men tell no tales of the south pacific, pacifica radio, public radio city music hall of the mountain king of the beats some kind of popular head-phonetic tock tick takamora taka moral of the storyville jazz at the phil harmonicats, a musical act in the forties and fifty is the new sixties were not all they were cracked up to be or not to be a morning after all we’ve been threw up the shades of blue and green green hills of home on the rangefinder as opposed to an SLR, a single lens reflexively pushing back in the good old days of our lives of the poets are people too much of a good things don’t always work out the way we shall over come over here we go against the grain to glass, a brewpub motto of the marines? You don’t want to know all about it, read all about it went a little something like this time you must listen to monk, that’s what jon hendricks called rhythm-ma-ning com-poop deck paul and mary, where is peter and the wolfgang of four times four is sixteen tons whadda you get your goddammed hands oftentimes we don’t really know what to reed instrument or implement of mass this catholic thing called love crazy little thing that character on the addams family feud typically over inherit the wind beneath my wings over the rockies baseball team work off that excess wait wait don’t tell me all about it was a dark and stormy night.