mmmmmm in the midlands i'll ponder

Hello my friends.
Are we all well?
I sit alone in a punk office in the Midlands.
I feel frustrated.
Played with Leftover crack last night.
My wonderful voice,the song bird in my throat fucking left me again????
I could of cried.
i could of fuckin wept into the faces of the punk girls with their pretty hair.
And i am a tad worried.
Coz it is happening too often.
I've tried warming up
I've tried warm drinks
What the fuck is happening?
I've been playing since the fucking early 90's man????
Why has my voice decided to be a cunt???
Why am i writing this shit???
Yes,i guess i need to go to a doctor/throat person/singing teacher.
But i thought maybe like magically by writing this,it would make my problems go away.
Coz i, like an alive Paverotti(..whatever his name was)have to perform again in a few hours.
To Mansfields finest son.
Lenny.
the birthday boy
and Debs
the birthday princess.
I can't wait to eat all that part food.
Mmmmmm,did i spy a chilli,slow cooking in the kitchen.
I'm in for a treat thatis for sure.
Let's all raise our glasses to the weekend.
I unlike Leftover Crack,don't have a message for the punks.
I won't be telling you to "fuck the police"
Unless it is quite literally to stick it to a hot one.
Save your energies for the positive.
Maybe you have an elderly neighbour that don't get many visitors.
Maybe you could bake her a cake?
Yup
"Fuck the po lice"
"bake her a cake"

That's a message i could get behind.

mmmmmmmmmm
Well done.
And you know what?
Nah,nothing.
x