Hello! And how are you today?! Bright and breezy? Cheeky and cheerful? Chipper? Top-notch? All of those put together? None of the above? Don't care? Would rather not say? Well, all that's okay, because it's Friday and time for more Babelfishing poetry, where I take song lyrics, run them through an on-line translator such as (but not necessarily) Babelfish, poke and prod the punctuation a bit, and wind up with a quirky kind of poem.
And today, for no particular reason, it's Bob Seger's timeless hit from 1976, "Night Moves" getting Babelfished (read lyrics and listen to song here). Enjoy.
We Did Not Find Pies At The Summit
I am a little too high, you can use a few pounds.
Tight pants point to the most popular.
A black hair, big eyes of the United States.
All the points, and how to sit high.
Along the way, the company is high.
The tree in the back seat of my '60 Chevy,
heavy rear end of the corn fields.
The mysteries of work on no evidence,
and the work of the movement at night.
In the car, I will try some news.
First of all, the movement
has been working this summer,
sweet summer night.
We do not love, oh, no, quite the contrary.
We did not find pies at the summit.
We who live in the sword, just young
and restless and had gotten bored.
We guarantee that our streets
are in the jungle and steal every chance
that there could be behind it.
I'm used to, but I do not care one.
We will get a share of the work
in the evening we have movement.
I want to lose the awkward age
of puberty blues, night work and action.
This is summer.
We felt the lightning and thunder
wait and wait for the storm.
I woke up last night thunder sound.
I thought I was sitting far apart.
He began to sing the song in 1962.
If you can not lose a lot at night
moving not even funny way.
Moving into the closing night
of fun ways to fall.