Cyranny wrote some stuff about difficult love and dangerous relationships and it was really good …. but I have the attention span of a flea and suddenly, once again, I was off on a tangent and regressing back into my youth when, for just a few moments, I considered myself to be a rock and roll sex god, who wrote lyrics that were thankfully drowned out by loud music and unhealthy pharmaceuticals.

God, how I miss my own immaturity.

***

You’re infectious baby

I’ve got the disease

I’m burning up

Thirty eight degrees

Sweetheart keep your distance

Please don’t touch

I can take some rejection

But I can’t take much

(Chorus)

I’m lovesick, lovesick, I’m not feeling so great

Lovesick baby. It’s not something that I ate

But I have to bring it up. The condition won’t abate

Lovesick baby. Let’s regurgitate

I’ve got this burning love

It feels so pure

But it’s a hot infestation

And there ain’t no cure

I tried some meditation

With the doctor of love

And I promised dedication

To the Lord above

(Chorus)

I’m lovesick, lovesick, I’m not feeling so great

Lovesick baby. It’s not something that I ate

But I have to bring it up. The condition won’t abate

Lovesick baby. Let’s regurgitate

But the Lord said nothing

‘Cause he couldn’t understand

He was far too busy

And he wouldn’t lend a hand

So I took to medication

Ignored the hymns and the psalms

If this is going to kill me

Let me die in your arms.

***

Here’s another one. This time from Rory, who confesses a love for country girls. I find my own feelings to be slightly less specific.

***

She was a country girl, of course

A country girl upon a horse

Then laying by a mountain stream

A country girl within a dream

But then there was the city chick

Exciting nights. When hearts go quick

City lights. The city beat

Love found us on the city street

Girls from North, East, South and West

I don’t know which I like the best

I answer when I hear the call

Girls. I guess I like them all.

***

Today’s stolen idea comes, again, from Stella, for whom November has a special significance. Though it is not really my place to elaborate on that.

***

When it rains in November

I imagine you here

It’s on cold windy days

That I feel you near

There’s too much to remember

So why can’t I forget?

In November it’s raining

My world’s getting wet

When it rains in November

I crave for your touch

You won’t kiss me again

Though I miss you so much

There’ll be no pretender

There’ll be no one more

In November it’s raining

How I wish it would pour

***

Continuing my (relatively new) tradition of stealing ideas I couldn’t resist providing a few addition thoughts to Kate who’s own thoughts seem to be focussed on the final journey a bit lately.

The truth is that I haven’t (yet) received any bad news from the doctor, but it pays to have a few words prepared. These things can happen very quickly sometimes.

***

It’s time to bid you all farewell
I’m off to heaven. Could be hell
I’ve had my moment. Done my time
I’m old and battered. Past my prime
I’ll for the last time raise a smile
I’ll raise my glass and leave in style
I’ll for the last time kiss my wife
I’m done with living.

Loving. Life.

There’s no tomorrow . Nothing planned
I must be going. Shake my hand
Nought to do and nought to say
Adios. I’m on my way
Sayonara. Toodle-oo
I’m already missing you
But au revoir. I’ve heard the call.
Auf weidersehen.

I loved you all

***