Author: freddyflow

Frida Kahlo (beats by Weight)

Hop hip

Frida Kahlo has a hell of a unibrow,
How she grew that I don’t know how.
But that caterpillar is fatter than my fattie.
I know yo mamma like it, but who’s yo daddy?

From bad to worse, I rehearse these verses.
Code blue, stat, call up the nurses.
Hearses idle, some dead men walking.
But I’m a Pac Man, keep a waka-waka-wakking.

Hawking my wares, wherever they buyin’.
Made a killing on the Elders of Zion.
Frypan beatdown, got killt with a skillet.
Crashed the kosher code, some goy asked will it
Be the death of you, home? Well, nobody knows,
But these Old Testament testicles can take a few blows.

Foes fall back, weebles start to wobble.
People keep talking, all I hear’s turkeys gobbling.
Some start to sobbing, speaking in tongues,
Saw Jesus in a nacho; at the top of my lungs
I keep preaching these heretical gospel.
Reaching y’all heathens with boy band apostles.

Sight for sore eyes, this vision is sordid.
Zap pests like Orkin, rhymes never aborted.
Sorted out friends from foes with a flourish.
Put rap on a seafood diet, nourished.

Sure as shooting this ain’t the most
elevated discourse ever – so why don’t you shoot me?
Never before have I heard such stupidity.
But it don’t matter, I’m all about liquidity.

Rid of me? Not yet—I last like a head cold.
If this were poker you’d be fixin’ to fold.
Hold my drink, lemme take care of this one.
One more run-and-gun youngblood’s one and done.

Fun! I’m a 4-ring circus.
Got one extra for Angela Merkus.
Lurk late, strike straight, thin gin, I sin,
Got so many rhymes don’t know where to begin

Or end—but friend, I never do,
This brain is wired with a never-ending loop.
Ingrain the sounds I’m throwing at you.
Insane the clown possibility, chew on this,

Don’t choke, best chomp thoroughly.
Don’t wolf your food or this face most assuredly
Will be the last thing you’ll ever see.
Face worth than death, fate you don’t want to be.

Yo B, I got D like Urlacher.
Get hit with this, got lots the matter.
I lick batter from lyrical beaters
Bake cakes with fakers’ Apollo Creeds

Or Pontius Pilates, I do pilates,
With thesaurus and dictionary, karate.
Verbal judo, Ju know what I’m sayin’?
Eat broccoli crudo, smoke cruciferous, slayin’

The wolves that’s bayin’ with ridiculousness,
Proud to say that I’m known as a hot mess.
Loch Ness monsters seek anonymity,
I seek the white-hot spotlight, B are you feelin’ me?

Swatch

Hop hip

 

I’ve already arrived, but I keep on moving
The sound of my own wheels turning is soothing.

Grooving my mind along to this smooth vibe.
If you’re feeling it the way I am, then gimme five.
Or gimme a Jackson or a Hamilton or a Grant.
The flow I got makes ladies lose their pan-ties
I make it rain underwear.
Angel don’t know and the Devil don’t care.
Fair enough, yeah, I’ve probably fouled out.
I come north but my brain went south.
Mouth that roared, mouse that soared.
Riding my bike I’m getting windowed and doored.
Sword swallower couldn’t stomach what I got
There ain’t no point, Sir Lance-a-Lot.
I eat Lance crackers from vending machines
It’s a Southern thing, y’all know what I mean?

Mason-Dixon, I’m fixin’ to cross it.
I reckon I’ll get my some Spanish moss, it
Grows on trees, down Florida way.
I come to Chicago, seeking a smarter way of living
Now I got four seasons worth.
Went to shoveling snow from riding surf.
Dearth of intelligence, that’s what some a y’all ‘d call it.
But life’s like a two-by-four, you got to saw it.
Some got a hatchet, some use floss.
Me I’m gnawing my way through like a buck-toothed moth
Ain’t too pretty but I gon’ get her did.
Mouth full of sawdust, you can’t rid of me so easy,
I’m an obstinate insect.
So damn smart I’m might be defective.
Say “Time flys” I get me a stopwatch
Clock ‘em in the 100 meter, believe it and watch.
Don’t believe me just watch.
Don’t believe me just watch.
I got a pink and green Swatch.
Don’t believe me just watch.

I knit swatches of words into quilts.
Throw cover throwdown, stitch and bitch with MILFs
Bills getting bigger and so is my crib.
I’m so damn old I remember women’s lib.
I’m so glib I got my own language,
Used Adam’s rib to make me a sammich.
Famished? Then get a taste of prime prosciutto.
I’m filet mignon of tube steak, you know
You can’t find better than this cut of meat.
Best believe it, I’m beyond belief.
King of the organ meat, Schenectady butcher,
Demi Moore didn’t ride on Ashton Kutcher
As hard as I push it when I get the flow goin’
If I’m a Girl Scout cookie, I’m an angry Samoan.

Dizzy (beats by The GeekSquad)

Hop hip

You got dizzy, I got busy with your girlfriend
Circular logic, I whirl peas without end.
Metta World Peace changed his name back to Artest
Just to get with this goodness, y’all must confess
Don’t know what I’m sayin’, but it’s got that certain,
How do the French say, “behind the curtain”?
Door number 1, I mean, “Menage a trios,”
Door number 3 and whore number 3 got me so hard
I’m bout to break, bout to blow the scene up
The next backpack rapper that say, “Yo, ‘s’up?”
Is fixing to get an earful of fredlicious flow.
It’s nothing you’ve heard before, nothing you could know
About—about time, time flies, flies die.
I smote insects got a bug-zapper eye
Ball—I’m ballin’ here, I’m a menace to tennis.
Ping pong quick wit, so far from senescence,
Evanescence, I make fools disappear.
Pull a rabbit out your ass and dead presidents from my ear.
Making money, they call me The Treasury.
My 3-pointers fly so smooth, so feathery.
Leather never felt so good in the net.
Never touch iron, do it clean, that’s what she said.

Freddy Flow flows, that much is certain
Pay not attention to that man behind the curtain.
Alertin’ y’all to a new way of thinking
Sinkin’ Battleships, G-5 like Lincolns.
Winkin’ at pirates, the parrot got nasty,
Mother buccaneer, birdbrain, avast ye
Sea dogs, seamen, I’m flush with C-notes,
So well-tailored even my briefs are bespoke.
Already spoken for, I’m booked for years
I’ve got more green than Iowa’s got ears of corn,
Just informing you, an FYI
Future porn star, girls got an eye for this straight guy.
Don’t sleep on this, ain’t no Posturpedic.
I got what you want but you might not need it.
I’m so gratuitous, like a gratuity
Keep these rhymes flowin’ in perpetuity.
The hip-hop game is somewhat new to me
But you’d never know by this flow, I’m Mookie B.
B for Blaylock, I’m an old-school baller,
On the come-up, comin’ out the holler.
Into the light, out the redneck backwoods.
Don’t pack heat pack lunch split wood
With one mighty blow, but never split an infinitive.
Flow like Flomax, I spit it infinite.

Academic

Hop hip

It’s all academic when I get on the mic,
your idiotic semiotics best take a hike.
I got tenure on you, I publish, you perish,
Immaculate reception, ballin’ like Franco Harris.
Ferris Bueller’s day off, but I’m on sabbatical.
You a hole in the ozone, I’m a free radical.
Madagascar, I bought me an island,
Shorty got low low but me I’m so high man.
You think you’re K2 but I’m freaking Everest.
Best start prayin’ now cuz I’m the very most reverend.
I spit it irreverent, your shit is irrelevant,
By time you got started I done came gone and went.
Left with your girlfriend, but don’t worry, I bring her back,
She might need from you some of what I might lack.
On second thought, check that, best say your goodbyes now.
Dogs in me speaking bow wow wow.
“Wow”’s what she said when the Freddy Flow dropped,
I’m Kristal, you’re Ripple, this shit’s getting popped.
You can sop up some grease with the heel of the loaf
If you want to homes, I got bread enough for the both
Of us, just feel lucky I’m sharing.
What’s your chick’s name again? Oh, was it Sharon?
Now she’s my secret Sharer, ain’t talkin’ no Conrad,
To the hilt in the Hilton, got the flow she ain’t never had.

Bad to be you, but it could be worse,
I’m running road blocks, putting chumps in a hearse.
The first shall be last, so I’m way way behind you.
Last shall be first, you can’t see that I’ve blinded you.
finders keepers, you sleep walking, I’m ballin’.
number one with a bullet while your bullshit’s fallin.
Hall and Oates is your musical model,
I’m a bottle of Hennessey, you’re a ship in the bottle.
You got blotto, I’m 85 proof,
The proof’s in the pudding, you think you’re so bad-ass ruthless
but I got news for you—
you’re Ruthless just ‘cuz your chick Ruth left you.
she used to be Sharon, but she changed her name,
didn’t want no connection to you, ain’t that a shame.
Fame is a bitch, but you’re looking at infamy,
You’re the same old same old, but me I’m a symphony.

I got game, yo, you got hobbies,
you holding the door while I stroll into lobbies.
Don’t start sobbing, I’ll slip you a 20,
ain’t nothing to me, I’m good and plenty,
You’re a lemonhead, I got beans like Boston,
I’m 6 million large like Major Steve Austin.
Boss of you, I’m lightning and thunder,
you’re a lightning bug, get your wings torn asunder.
under my thumb, you’re a mote in my eye.
you’d throw “dumb” in this rhyme and think you so fly.
Why you always getting up in folks’ butt cracks?
Your flow is fictional, but these are the facts,
“Wack” don’t do it to describe all your flaws,
with me they hit play, with you they hit pause.
Put some gauze on this wound I’ve inflicted,
None a y’all coulda never predicted,
that Freddy Flow could bust all these sweet rhymes,
you’re a lemon, yo, but me I’m sublime.

Keep it rolled underneath me

Hop hip

 

Girls are burning with optimism’s flame.
Gamed the system, Miss Pessimism’s claim to fame is:
That she knew me back when.
Trees fall in the forest, I’m all about the zen.
Got a yen for y’all and a lust for life.
Took two in the morning, took a third for a wife.
Third time’s the charm, got a four-alarm fire.
Plead the fifth, get my drift, arouse ire.
Aspire to greater heights, where mighty mites tremble,
Can’t nip these ankles, I never dissemble.
That means “lie,” some-a y’all better look it up.
Tectonic plates about to subduct
got nothing on me, I’m deep like Dante.
Open more doors than Monty.

Get caught in this maze, I ate all your cheese,
Set phasers on “stun,” catch this disease.
Can’t match my release, I never get sacked,
Unfair like the 12th man, that’s just the facts, Jack.
Maximum wage for the minimum work,
Never choke my chicken, I put on the jerk sauce,
get tossed like a Caesar salad,
Like a one-hit wonder gonna sing this ballad
Over and over till the hooks get pallid,
Foul is fair and fair is fouled.
Just fouled out but I don’t play Hack-a-Shaq,
Ref blew the whistle, illegal crackback.
Stack up my sins till they reach sky-high,
Anointed with ointment, I am the fly.
Sigh—not another plain white rapper;
But me, I’m eponymous, like Charles R. Crapper!
He invented the toilet, I reinvented myself,
Flush with success, I reinvent wealth.
It ain’t about Kristal and finger sandwiches,
More PBR and sloppy joe manwiches.

Damn, got switched, separated at birth,
Fell from Graceland back to earth.
Surfed a tsunami, got me some yoni,
But stuck with tuna, ‘cuz the phony baloney went bad
right about when I got good.
Wood in the morning never misunderstood.
Foot on the table, nine inches underneath it.
Got good genes that my daddy bequeathed me.
Y’all can’t see it, keep it rolled up beneath me,
Made all the girls swear they’d never leave me.

Carpy

Hop hip

My Asian carp is the pride of the hood,
Local fish made good, locovore withstood.

No stomach can stomach it, bony and briny,
Felonious skunk of the sea, never drunk on Hennessey,
He only lives for lake water:
Sagautuck here he comes, fishmonger hide your daughters
Bustin’ through defense like a fish Walter Payton
Watery payback of an Asian invasion.
No way to elude his 80-pound weight.
Poison, electric fences? Y’all too late.

His main buds kudzu and zebra mussel
Are coming at you, so prepare for a tussle.
You can fuss and fight, but this carptastic plague
Is falling like night, no way to turn the page back.
The Chicago lobster hits like a mobster
Whacks Gs like Joe Pesci, Fuggedaboutit.
Smacks heads, it’s getting messy—Don’t ever doubt it.

Palooka v. Palooka: A poem

Ever'thing, Floetry, New

Former Cham-peen, champing at the bit to get hit, take a dive like the tomato can he’s become. Sum total of a man: One title, one belt, 67 wins, 27 losses; tosses and turns, alone, in the pre-dawn bed, ready for road work, rope work, speed bags, raw eggs, blood, vomit, piss, spit, shit, sweat, viscera, stink and cigar smoke, naked light bulb hanging on a wire, obese masseuse, Ben Gay; fire in the belly: must be the Ramen noodle/jelly donut/PBR dinner. On the corner, places a collect call to his Muse. “What do you expect? To win?” She snorts in his face, his Fate, amused at his Superflyweight state of fallen grace, the race already run, already won—others on top. None left to watch, no pay-per-view, no newspapermen, it’s a one-man bout; he goes the distance, takes two knockdowns, a standing 8-count, and a low blow, loses on a split decision, spits the mouthpiece into the bucket, and raises high his gloved hands, the once and future cham-peen, now and forever alive, forever loved.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Sedaris by Freddy Flow

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Semiotic acrobatics, semantic sideshow.
semiautomatic dummy, take what you don’t know
roll it up and smoke it–blunt your jagged edge
bake your brain with microwaves, throw your head off from the ledge

trim the hedge electric Fantastic Sam
Trip the night bombastic Sam I Am
Flip the switch eclectic AC DC
Lip the witch with chap stick Mercy Me

Spastic lap dance, Plastic lasses flip their wigs
Flash their bigs, gettin’ small, Up with people, down with y’all
Gastric bands, heart bypasses, Stochastic sunglasses
Freddy’s Dead spits saliva, More alive than ya.

Live so serious, dead man frivolous.
Saw a gibbous moon and prayed to deliver us
From lunar lunacy and wolfman urges
Bridal shower blood bath binge and purges

Shoppers splurge, Bed bath beyond belief
Shark feeding frenzy, garbage on coral reefs,
Lots of F words and verbs get thrown about
Erogenous power surges blow your lights out

Dour schoolmarms ace take-home tests
Ace in the hole A-plus blessed
With hidden assets like Vlasic pickles
Crunchy and cold like a hot Don Rickles

Or Phyllis Diller’s sweet dill relish
It’s hot like that I never embellish
Stored in a medieval reliquary dish
To get a taste is my fondest wish.

Speaking in tongues, eating for two
Like a nondenominational New Testament Jew
Chewbacca ate Hans Solo, I took a bite out of rhyme
Princess Leia laid low, she’s on me all the time.

Put my clown tie on for the Elders of Zion
Diplomatic protocol, fascist folderol
Drank the Geritol with the raging ageists
Sipped the Haterade, stole a page from the plagiarists.

Try to save face, international space race
There is no basis, I’m the space case.
Getting my facial at a glacial pace
Face the facts—an axe is what it takes

Lose 10 pounds of ugly fat with one mighty blow.
Night of my living head, only on HBO.
Or one night I spent in the Hilton in Paris
Not in Paris Hilton or with David Sedaris.
But had I to choose, the socialite would surely lose
Get on up with your bad self, Santa Elf!

Constantinople (beats by blestbeatz, https://soundcloud.com/blest79)

Ever'thing, Hop hip

I don’t spit like those other rappers, just let my freak Freddy flow.
All it takes to make it’s 4 strings and a bow.
My violin’s never violent, rarely rocked ponticello,
Strings never burning, never, What’s that smell, yo?
Hell no and heaven yes, I’m gon Biblically do this,
One man’s Jesus is another man’s Judas.
Like the Old Testament I bring it Hebraic,
Lies get circumcised as quick as they say it.
Decimate the dudes who decide to sow violence,
Finger to my lips . . . silence.
Incense and peppermint, I’m a cool breath of freshness.
Windy City stiff breeze, look up this reference.
Deference is due me, like an overdue library book
dime a day adds up, better take a look.
I’m not a bestseller, more like a dusty,
Old wine in new skins, only liquor stores trust me.
Crusty layers of exoskeleton get crunched,
tasty beetles got fried and got munched.
Bunched-up drawers getting up in some butt cracks,
Not to be forward but don’t worry, I got your back.
Lackadaisical musical interlude,
Cue the dude with the ziplocked quaaludes.

Back to the flow, I’m never fronting,
Rock the mic like a sump pump, I’m really sumpthing.
Lumpenproletariat, go tell the bourgeoisie,
Even the one percent’s getting hip to me, G.
They’re skiing at Aspen on six inches of fresh coke
while I’m getting et by the skeeters in Okeefeenoke.
Ain’t no joke but they call me The Riddler,
I’m up on my lines like gay men on Bette Midler.
Fiddler on the make, got 4 on the floor,
Five-finger Mary, 6-6-6 on the door.
Whore of Babylon couldn’t get with this,
It’s a foregone conclusion, I babble on witless.
Sit less, stand more, I’m wired like a telco,
Strung out on Strunk and White, shave with Norelco.
“Omit needless words,” but I need ‘em all.
Prelapsarian even after the fall.
Y’all can’t google this quick as I bust it.
If I say “perspicacious” you’ll just have to trust it.
Rust belt-and-suspenders, I keep myself covered,
Sans-a-Belt leisure suit, I’m getting discovered.
I’m a terra nova and feeling del fuego,
Not Chevy No-va or sin los juevos.

Mi llamo Freddy Flow, got 1,000 languages,
I’ve blown more minds than noses hankerchiefs.
Got a hankering to yank y’all Fred-ward,
Up in the rankings like a rap Robert Redford
a river runs through it, and I swim upstream,
This backwards flow is not what it might seem.
I scheme to sell ice cream to Eskimos,
Got a posse of polar bears floating on ice floes.

5-0 Replay

Ever'thing, Hop hip
Slurred my words from the glasses of Hennesey,
Incurred some losses, sipped the sauces of Genevieve.
Plain to see I’m on a deficit spending spree,
Barack Obama is my main O.G.
Whee! Keep spendin’ all the dead presidents,
Broke the mold, I set the precedent.
Recompense, I’m getting compensated
Y’all haters are Parmesan, getting grated
Fated for greatness, folks are waiting with bated breath.
I’m destiny’s child, son of mother goose and father death.
Treble clef and a violin case
Speakers go to 11, done blown up the parking space.
Ace of bass, y’all fishin’ for facials.
Put a bass in the blender, now it’s time to say grace, y’all.
Some fall back, start to dropping like leaves
But I spring ahead, this primavera don’t cease.
Don’t sneeze, don’t blink, you might miss a mouthful,
I come north from way down south full of
down-home cornpone hillbilly witticisms;
Don’t worry, I’m down with all y’all’s criticism:
“White boy with a red neck rapping.”
“Wake up Mr West!” But I’m still napping.
Eyes wide shut, but third eye alert,
Cruising the hood with Ernie and Bert.
Hit up Big Bird for a payday loan, yo.
PBS funds comin’, he ain’t no dodo.
Never extinct, nine lives like a cat.
And I’m down, up and sideways with all that.
Sat some rappers down, pimped some chumps out,
None could figure what this Freddy is all about.
Had to sit down too, ‘cuz I can’t either.
Word and rhymes come through the ether
Like piss through urethras or respect for Aretha.
Sooner or later these words gonna reach you.
Teach you some learning or preach you some gospel.
Got friendly fire but I rap hostile.
But costs’ll add up, the meter is running,
Get paid by the word, this linguist is cunning.
Tongued me some flutists, or is it flautists?
Check the decibels, which one is loudest?
How this look on my curriculum vitae?
Book ‘em, Dano, it’s a 5-0 replay.
Made a career out of unclear references,
Bade farewell to verbal reticence.
Present tense passed by, I’m already future,
Invented new verbs to work your glutes, suit yourself,
if you’re not with this, sit down,
Finders keepers but I will never be found,
Losers weepers I’m a needle in a haystack,
heavy hitter like a fat man snack attack.
Whacked more weeds than Toro,
Cut more Zs than Zorro.
Tomorrow’s my yesterday, today is so last week,
Celebrate Chinese new year when Pekingese speak.
That’s my dogs, got a mob of chihuahuas,
Yo quiero Taco Bell, dog day mamas,
Got me a llama and 39 acres,
So much cookie I need a dozen bakers,
Maker’s Mark on the tip of my tongue,
The Gospel of Mark’s gonna get expunged.
Bungee jumped, screamed Oh my Lord!
Unfortunately, Mama had cut the cord.

Experiments in Murphy’s Law: The John Q. Surfer song

Ever'thing, Floetry, New

Experiments in Murphy’s Law

by Steve Peck

 

The name’s John Q. Surfer, he came here to surf,

The biggest wave in the history of earth.

While everybody else evacuates the city,

John Q. Surfer will be sitting pretty.

The said, Johnny, don’t do it, it’s dangerous.

 

The name’s John Q. Surfer, he came here to surf

The biggest wave in the history of earth.

600 miles an hour, 500 feet high,

He heard it on the news, he said Jesus Cry!

(and they said) Johnny, don’t do it, you could get hurt.

 

John Q. Surfer, been waiting here since birth,

The biggest wave in the history of earth.

While everybody else was loading their cars,

John Q. Surfer was waxing his surfboard.

They said, Johnny! Are you crazy? You could die!

 

(solos)

 

Johnny saw the wave come over the horizon,

Everybody else has left the town.

He better make it good, he only had one chance,

To climb on to the tidal wave and … dance

Johnny! Johnny! Good luck!

 

John Q. Surfer climbed onto his surfboard,

And headed out to meet the wave.

The wave came upon him, the wave was giant.

He tried to stand up, but it crushed him like an ant.

Johnny? Why’d you do it? That was stupid.

Wayward Blues (Beats by Jamel at Loud Rap Beats, http://loudrapbeats.com/)

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Dearth of intelligence, earth to Freddy.
Bring that beat back, keep it rock steady.
Deadheads delay their date with destiny
the head on this Fred beats hell out the rest of me.
Suction out fat, Section 8 housing.
The cat that ate Pittsburgh is mousing.
Rats on the run, just like Revelations,
The 3-6 beast is the end of all nations.
But I’m still stressed about punctuation,
Inner eye trained on my own creation.
Facing apocalypse, I shrug my shoulders
Those wise old elders are way way older
than I’ll ever be, why listen to their gripes?
I’ve paid more dues than Wesley Snipes paid taxes,
Got exes in Texas,
Manipulate words like Schwarzenegger flexes.
He mates with maids, I make my mark,
Set sail on a sea of words, I’m a Cutty Sark.
Hark, the feral devils rap,
My trigonometry can cure the clap.

Map out a route or a root, where you headed.
Some thighs and breasts are fixin’ to get breaded,
Or maybe Fredded, break out the special sauce.
Cross the Rubicon, a Pyrrhic win’s a loss.
Moss gathers stones, rolling in the deep,
R.I.P. Brian Jones, what dreams may creep
deep into our quotidian existence,
Divisible quotient, futility of resistance.
Keep your distance, some words pack a sting.
Invented a new verb tense, now I make it sing.
Speak in Fourth person past present pluperfect.
This alphabet’s child’s play, gonna work it,
Jerk it around like a dog on a leash,
Got a wrinkled-ass brain but these trousers stay creased.
Catch and release, never fishing for compliments
Trapped the beast slouching east, always up on to it.

Sonnet’s son and limerick’s bastard,
Poetry glows but liquor is faster.
Master of my domain, jack of all tropes,
Eat snipe for breakfast, got a pet jackalope.
Pope Paul was appalled at my pulled pork prose,
It’s falling off the bone, Lord only knows
what I’ll say next, and he ain’t tellin’.
Nobody’s buyin’ if nobody’s sellin’.
Bring me the head of John Tesh on a platter;
Say hey, Salome, what is the matter?
And yo, Kenneth, what is the frequency?
I got more rhymes than juvenile delinquents
See here, listen up, ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust, flush the fashion.
Flashback Friday Voices Carry Til Tuesday,
Carry on My Wayward blues, my wayward blues,
Can’t stop singing these wayward blues.

Accrued more losses than stones got moss,
Got six balls less than my main man Rick Ross.
Floss my teeth with a pole dancer’s g-string,
Won the contest ‘cuz I’ll eat anything.
Some bring the noise, some bring the violence
But I got 4’33” seconds of {{{[silence]}}}
John Cage cage match, got the matchmaker blues,
Practice makes perfect, I’m practicing self-abuse.
News got old, I rock an Olds 98
My Hyundai got sun-dried like a wrinkled-ass grape.
California raisin, raisin’ cain
Drunk on dandelion wine, time to run it all back again.