MY NEW GAME: NAME THOSE ARTISTS

i was BORN IN THE U.K., where THE MOST OF THE ANIMALS are PALE, but A DAY AT THE RACES will LIFT you BACK ON THE RIGHT TRACK. BARON VON BULLSHIT RIDES AGAIN, and there’s no telling when LIL’ RED RIDINGHOOD will pull into the lead.

the MOTORCADE OF GENEROSITY will pull you down MERMAID AVENUE, where NEWS OF THE WORLD will ACTIVATE those DUST BOWL BALLADS you’ve been sending from STATION TO STATION, reminding you that LONELY RUNS BOTH WAYS and that the DARK SIDE OF THE MOON is more akin to THE DARK SIDE OF LIFE, LOOSE ENDS, AND SCATTERED SONGS.

DON’T DO ANYTHING that NAKED WILLIE wouldn’t do! he’s lost in ELECTRIC LADYLAND, with THE BEGINNING STAGES OF... SOUTHERNPLAYALISTICADILLACMUZI. in other words, UNNAGUMMA, at least that’s what the PRESSURE CHIEF called it.

i would follow the path of the STARLITE WALKER, and avoid the BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE.

TATOO YOU, and not ANOTHER SIDE OF BOB DYLAN, or it will be the END OF AN ERA.

ONCE, i knew THIS DESERT LIFE meant you were a NINO ROJO, but now it just means you write SLEEP AND WAKE-UP SONGS for the COLUMBIA RIVER COLLECTION, ABOUT A BOY with a SURREALISTIC PILLOW, who sang LIVE AT WIMBLEY, THE GASLIGHT, and THE WIRELESS.

THE GREATEST HURTS are to those TRAV’LIN’ LIGHT; tryin’ to figure out WHAT’S GOING ON, and if those RELICS will STILL BILL into BRINGING IT ALL BACK HOME.

AT THE POINT of no return i’ll finally ask, “if I’M NOT THERE, can i be HAPPY?”