Hello? How are you? Hope you're very well, fine, and dandy. And I hope you're ready for more Babelfishing poetry, where I take song lyrics, run them through an on-line translator such as (but not necessarily) Babelfish, tweak the punctuation a bit, and wind up with a quirky kind of poem.
This week it's Bif Naked and "Lucky" (watch poorly-synced video here) (and see proof that, in the right hands, you can totally rock a Goth look in white instead of black). Enjoy.
All The Winners
Monday when he was the the index finger to me, Cenbartner.
I want to say I never drew the only international.
What? I love you, Lurih.
Give me life.
Ouch on me, love, one doesn't.
What? I am your Italian.
As the gods dwelt in Paradise a few teachings differently to always, always, and every day will lose a lot.
I thought it time to be licensed, rose of love,
all these before the end of your images.
In our future he runs a lot to me.
"Time and thanks to the God-path of a loved one," he said.
Thank you for all the gods
I don't know, I don't know.
Time, and you know the engine.
Of course, here I give him time.
What do you know, all the winners.
What kind of life? Winners,
united again, united movement you know anyway.
This is a good winner.
.
