#Jesus army money box

[kocherga-motyga]

Tears o'er a tin box.

Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know,

Like a chicken with a fox,

He couldn't win the war with ego.

Give the kid the pick of pips,

And give him all your stripes and ribbons.

Now he's sitting in his hole,

He might as well have buttons and bows.

"What could he do? Should have been a rock star.

But he didn't have the money for a guitar.

What could he do? Should have been a politician.

But he never had a proper education.

What could he do? Should have been a father.

But he never even made it to his twenties.

What a waste —

Army dreamers.

answer for ask

[fandomfluffandfuck]

please listen to army dreamers by kate bush and think about ww2 era steve and bucky (especially bucky)

B.F.P.O. Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O. Mammy's hero Our little army boy Is coming home from B.F.P.O. I've a bunch of purple flowers To decorate mammy's hero Mourning in the aerodrome The weather warmer, he is colder Four men in uniform To carry home my little soldier But he didn't have the money for a guitar (What could he do?) (Should have been a politician) But he never had a proper education (What could he do?) (Should have been a father) But he never even made it to his twenties What a waste Army dreamers Oh, what a waste of Army (army) dreamers (dreamers) Tears o'er a tin box Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know Like a chicken with a fox He couldn't win the war with ego Give the kid the pick of pips And give him all your stripes and ribbons Now he's sitting in his hole He might as well have buttons and bows But he didn't have the money for a guitar (What could he do?) (Should have been a politician) But he never had a proper education (What could he do?) (Should have been a father) But he never even made it to his twenties What a waste Army dreamers Ooh, what a waste of Army (army) dreamers (dreamers) Ooh, what a waste of all them Army (army) dreamers (dreamers) Army (army) dreamers (dreamers) Army (army) dreamers (dreamers), oh B.F.P.O. Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O. Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O. No hard heroes Mammy's hero B.F.P.O. Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O.

Why would you do this to meeee

This is so Steve and Bucky and, oh my god, I made it so much worse on myself by imagining it as being sung by Bucky's mom, Winnie, about both of her boys during the war but also singing through tears after the fact when they've both been declared dead, weeping for her son, her sons best friend, and Sarah who was spared of seeing what would happen to her only child and his loyal best friend, but would be destroyed had she lived to see it. So. Just. OUCH.

[enfyswanders]

Stratford-Upon-Avon: June 26-29, 2024

As an English major and theater nerd, I pretty much had to visit Stratford-Upon-Avon, the hometown of William Shakespeare. Surprisingly, though, the highlights of this part of the trip for me weren't actually Shakespeare-related, though the Shakespeare tourism was really cool.

My first day there, I wandered around near my hotel and found a Ferris wheel to ride. I bought a ticket and got the whole ride to myself.

(Above: View from said Ferris wheel.)

After riding the Ferris wheel, I heard a four-piece band of preteens out busking in the plaza and absolutely slaying "Killing In the Name" by Rage Against the Machine.

I stayed to listen to their entire set, a set which seemed to be curated specifically to part Boomers through Millennials from their money. I wrote down all the songs I could remember at the end of the day:

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana

"Zombie" by The Cranberries

"Glory Box" by Portishead (?!?!?!)

"7 Nation Army" by the White Stripes

"These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" by Nancy Sinatra

"Sweet Home Alabama" by Leonard Skynyrd

I can't overstate how incredibly talented these kids were. I feel so blessed to have been able to catch their show. I tipped them £5 and asked them to promise never to stop making music.

Also: Look at the geese by the Ferris wheel and River Avon! (Fun fact: Avon means "river," so it's the "River River.") (Another fun fact: "Stratford-Upon-Avon" means "The Street Where You Cross the River.")

Another non-Shakespeare highlight was my visit was the MAD Museum, full of mechanical art, automata, and Rube Goldberg-style devices. It's fairly small, but I had an absolute blast wandering around and admiring everything.

But, of course, I also did Shakespeare things. My first full day in town, I bought a ticket for one of those open-top, hop-on/hop-off bus tours, which was recommended in the Rick Steves guide as being the best way to get out to see Anne Hathaway's (Shakespeare's wife's) childhood home, which is just a bit outside of town.

It was well worth the money and the trip. Her cottage is beautiful, and was in her family for several generations. You can see some sections that are fairly authentic to when she would've grown up there, and then there's an enormous garden, which includes a lot of really neat sculptures.

I also visited Shakespeare's grave, inside Holy Trinity Church. At the time Shakespeare lived, it was common practice to dig up people's graves about 20 years after they were buried, to make room for new bodies. Shakespeare was appalled by this, and not only arranged to be buried inside the church, he also wrote a curse to be placed on his resting place:

"Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To dig the dust enclosed here. Blessed be the man that spares these stones, And cursed be he that moves my bones."

While I was in town, I was hoping to see a performance of something by Shakespeare, but apparently I visited when there were no Shakespeare performances to be had. Instead, I visited the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and saw a production of Kyoto, a gripping political thriller based on a true story about the UN Climate Talks.

The protagonist(?) in the play is an American lawyer who served under Reagan, who after Reagan's second term was hired by OPEC to sabotage the UN Climate Talks. I never thought someone could make UN parliamentary procedure gripping, but I was wrong. I was on the edge of my seat for this play. If you ever get a chance to see it, do.

The theatre itself was beautiful, and almost completely in-the-round. I had a fantastic seat on the second level, only slightly off-center from the midpoint of the stage.

I don't have photos of them, but I also visited Shakespeare's New Place (which is mostly just a fabulous garden) and saw the exhibit for Shakespeare's Birthplace (the latter had a super long, slow line to get into the birthplace itself, and a lot of people in line were coughing, so I opted not to go in).

The most important Shakespeare-related thing I did during my visit, however, was having high tea at the Shakespaw Cat Cafe.

All the cats there are named after Shakespeare characters. Above, Horatio is trying to steal Hamlet's treats, and I'm holding Raven, an adorable kitten who blessed me by crawling into my lap and snoozing for a bit. 10/10, would drink tea and pet kitties again.

Things that made me giggle during this part of the trip:

[gaykarstaagforever]

Rolling Stone article from 2011 about The Order, a polygamist Fundamentalist Mormon cult that owned / owns slave-worked businesses and practiced / practices incest, out in the open in Salt Lake City. They also have a "fun" wrinkle where they think they are the literal blood descendants of Jesus and his wife, so they have to breed a genetically-pure army of warriors to battle the Evil Blacks at the end of days. With assistance from Native Americans, for some reason? Why the fuxk not, I suppose.

This isn't a story from the 19th century. This is from now. Like, 2011, now. Like, still doing this. Because the rest of us totally believe mainstream Mormons aren't lying when they say they don't do this stuff anymore. While openly turning a blind eye to those who do.

Fans of Sherlock Holmes will enjoy how these monsters bear an uncanny resemblance to the ones Doyle wrote about in A Study in Scarlet. For which he is still criticized for "defaming Mormonism." US schools still ban the novel for this.

Seems to me he nailed it. Maybe that's why they're so mad.

The funniest part of this Order story is how they refuse to use banks, so all their money is in actual gold and silver. In boxes in their houses. That is easy to steal.

Edit: Update!

They're still at it!

Almost like if the government doesn't stop your cult, you just keep being a cult, or something.

[helleborerain]

[GTKMOC] Items

rGet to Know My [My Dear Hatchet Man] Oc because I stray from sanity everyday.

Harley’s Item:

- Since she’s been robbed a couple times, she tries to carry items in her jacket so it looks like she doesn’t have anything on her... She also tends to lose purses or bags and she rarely takes her jacket off.

- Doesn’t really know why she has a phone half the time. It’s old, outdated, and cracked. But at least it has her music. Gets zero bitches.

- Her bat (I changed it to a wooden bat),Winston. that was given to her by her granddad. She carries in a small bat bag or underneath her coat. It makes her feels safe and less alone.

- Her wallet is mostly empty. She works as a bartender at a metal bar so she mostly relies on tips. She usually keeps joints in their since it helps calms her down. Any money she usually gets goes to rent or items she wants to fix up. She’s bad about saving money, but she keeps a small amount at home for a car.

- She has to much hair not to have at a pocket of hair clips.

Yarrow’s Items:

- Really just needs to clean her bag. She has everything in there. Pretty sure you could find Jesus in there.

- She carries her father’s old Swiss army knife that he got from the military. It was the last gift she got from him so it’s really important to her.

- Phone. It’s just a phone. Still gets more bitches than Harley

- She generally writes in a journal/diary, or some type of notepad. She is a writing major and also just enjoys creative writing. She loves creating horror and depressing stories. But she also just writes to vent.

- Once or twice a week she’ll carry a clear box. She’ll go into the woods to catch an insect for her pet Orb-Weaver Spider until she can get a garden going. She’ll generally leave it at home if she doesn’t need to feed her since she knows a lot of people don’t like bugs. c: (Her spider’s name is Citrine)

(If someone pisses her off too and she knows they don’t like bugs, she won’t hesitate to catch a bug and release it around them, but you don’t know that-)

- She also enjoys sewing and is pretty good at it. Plus can come in handy if she gets her clothes snagged on a plant.

- Since Alan wood carves, if he made her anything, she’d probably carry it around like a good-luck charm. Like a deer wood carving

[prof-jadranko]

Our little army boy

Is coming home from B.F.P.O.

I've a bunch of purple flowers

To decorate mammy's hero

Mourning in the aerodrome

The weather warmer, he is colder

Four men in uniform

To carry home my little soldier

But he didn't have the money for a guitar

(What could he do?)

(Should have been a politician)

But he never had a proper education

(What could he do?)

(Should have been a father)

But he never even made it to his twenties

What a waste

Army dreamers

Oh, what a waste of

Army (army) dreamers (dreamers)

Tears o'er a tin box

Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know

Like a chicken with a fox

He couldn't win the war with ego

Give the kid the pick of pips

And give him all your stripes and ribbons

Now he's sitting in his hole

He might as well have buttons and bows

—🎵 Army Dreamers, by Kate Bush

Oh, there was similar song in frontier, something about everyone being in graveyard and how they got there...

[the-firebird69]

Elton John - Tiny Dancer

This lady in the cover is not a Mac he says Lily is in the Bible because of this particular video and she's rubbing the symbol of Mary for luck and for help and for blessings and for her to do a job and that's not the whole problem that's not really the biggest and she's not really riding but that's where he got it from he says it's amazing he's thinking about it why is she going to help and she's arguing with him and he figured that out and he asked around any question people got answers back and for Christ's sake it came back in Intel they're fighting each other it's holding in check the computers took over and there's a lot of history he went through really weird things band members that died and they were looked at and in a TV show and a time capsule where he was people who got arrested people got in fights who people were in in the men's home and it was it's crazy it's all sorts of things that led to it and they're they're fighting and they're tied up and this clone war came out audibly and he says why and he's been doing it I think his name is levon and he's in the Bible and he says Ken is doing something like that and now I'm starting to see something he kind of knows what's going on this clan is fighting for their lives and the max are after them it is calling his son Jesus but is not. But he says is true they kind of could have put a key box on the materializations and they put a kibosh on the kju but really it's triggering a reaction and other people are reacting and they're using other stuff and more and you're not going to know if they're materializing it's just a nightmare you Max the wrong and I believe it's the ones from still in Concord who messed it up and they're still messing it up and they got to find out who it is it's going to give us time we need this stuff the big fellows and the third guy there and Ken are saying and Mom that the technology is there for the thorium it's not much different because it's so huge and they just vary the size and they've got it and they can test smaller ones I know what they're saying they'll try proportional and they can modify this is what it is it would not take long for massive computers to do it or the max down there if they found thorium now we have to be aware they're all fighting but everybody is going to fight these Max now it's about time they ruined my life they had me do something evil and I regret it it's way too way to it's past it and they keep saying they haven't they're having it done

Mac Daddy

You're treating me really badly and you're trying to cut my money off as a threat for what I'm trying to figure out what you're threatening for

Zues Hera

Straw plans to go ahead and we're starting to see something they might not go ahead because we keep blaming but we have a plan for this part of it it's to activate our army I see what you're saying people are at us that's what we planned ons

Macs

Olympus

Please print it now Thor Freya Hera Nevada Ariana and goddess wife Uriel Poseidon and goddess wife Armand and goddess wife Rafael and got his wife Salazar and got his wife Apollo and got his wife lobo and proxima midnight god and goddess South America heritage side and many many more we will attach in a moment to ours

[lifedemandsanswer]

Just so you know that Hamas not only killed the Jewish people , they killed the foreigner at that part of Israel as well, those who work there, Thailand also part of the foreign worker killed. How disgusting Hamas is, their pretentious act of in the name of their Allah is kill people? Maybe there is something really wrong with them? Their anger shows that they doesn’t have any self control and they only called to kill people in the last days. Meaning to say their teaching and their forefather also have issue with how they teach their teaching, maybe the real brainwashed is their teaching. All other religion teach people to do good, but theirs is just killing spree. Revenge and massacres have been so since watching 911 in the past while growing up.

How all these happened, people seems to forget that we shouldn’t lose alert on our surrounding and whom we working with. Remember you show Grace to them and then they ended up steal, kill and destroy just as the bible says they are? Watching this as a foreigner felt so disgusting. Like so so disgusting.

I have trust issue as Asian.

Yes, we can pray about it, but who know the people of Muslim in every other part of the world, are they also plotting and believing this kind of in the name of Allah, they need to kill people, which is self effort and none of that show me any power of their so called “God” which is “Allah”, most of it show that it’s plainly self effort to fight for their rights.

None of it shows that their Allah have power, black box, black magic yes, seen too much. Even in Mecca, recently locust came out from the ground and they have to jump around to get rid of it, in Moses times I remember seeing locust is sign of eating their crops up in Egypt, seems like history is repeating itself and only a supernatural God can send insects to come out and lightning to strike their building, I’m praying all the mosque in the name of their Allah be strike down and their building caught 🔥. More earthquake kill them whom kill innocents life.

But their people always create strife, wars, anger, condemn others, if not bitch about other people. How I know? Work with their kind, observe them, seen their everyday how they live their life, no matter how you work in peace with them, they will backstabbed you at the back. No point wearing hijab, when that’s just the Olden days teaching, because it’s of law and not Grace.

Law is Demand, Grace is supplies.

I believe in Father, Son and Holy Spirit, they only teach good, only Good stuff filled with peace, not strife and fight fight fight. I know how God’s people are wiser because they are always called for bigger things, even the latest scientific studies have assist them in reviving their plum dates trees of a few thousands old. It just says how wise Jewish are.

Who say I have no sympathy? No compassion.. you try living with Muslim and you observe they can be patient but many mind game going on and them being insecure shows that they are always plotting the next move. History is repeating itself, they never learnt their ways. Since 911, we know what kind of terrorist they are. They kill people without any sense of remorse, in the name of Allah is devil.

Outward transformation is never as real as inward heart transformation. Those fake pretentious of self pity save it for yourself. I’ve seen too much all these years. And I still know of a supernatural God, Jesus Himself will come, Jesus will fight, the Lord of Angel armies will come down and fight all these devils minions and the real devil will show up in these last days. Why don’t rich guy creating so much AI just use robots and satellite kill all these terrorist, once and for all? Like just shoot them down? All the terrorist? Having so much money, but can’t get down to business. Need to use real people to fight? Can’t you send your robots or AI and kill all these terrorist?

Maybe you should protect your own people and send robots to fight. Since the terrorist send drones, don’t use real people, send robots to kill them terrorist.

In the name of Allah? Killing people? Same kind, in other parts of the world, them trying to deny and says no Hamas is not Muslim people, yet them same kind spent how much money to go Mecca to gain power just so to show how powerful they are. Not only that, them showing off their own self effort of killing does shows me that they have no self control, at all. If them trying to convert people into Muslim just shows me all the more -> no way to Muslim. I will still choose Jesus. Way better!! Don’t eat pork does not help!! It’s just the way the real motives and intentions are!!

Faker gonna fake again!! Always hiding something, just so we know the snippet of their real intention is plotting to kill and murder!! How many Muslim have Jesus appearing in their dreams? Just so you know many says Jesus appear in them dreams and not so their Allah?

Please I was born in Buddhist family yet I’ve only seen Jesus, this does show me Yeshua does not even have to lift a finger to fight and kill but is kind and heal people and show kindness and Grace. Can even appear to people in their dreams?

Jesus only saves, the devil came to steal, kill and destroy!! Wickedness and evil always prevail in forms of killing!! Don’t tell me how many killed at the airport, while they supply weapon wanting to bomb the airport? We all know who started what first. Give Israel back to Jewish!! Israel belong to the Jews!!

They say many Jewish stole their land, but their land in history itself came from Israel, and they say Palestine stay in Israel and Jewish drove them out oh please Israel belong to Jewish, it is Palestine that stole it, controlling and power are never part of love. Just self effort and hurting more life and causing mental health,more hatred and more trauma.

[momentsbeforemass]

Salvage

(by request, my homily from Palm Sunday)

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

The Palm Sunday Gospels are all about getting it wrong. And it starts with the people, the ones who welcome Jesus into Jerusalem. With a triumphal greeting, the kind that’s reserved for kings and conquering heroes.

Because that’s who they think Jesus will be for them. A king. A conquering hero.

They’re looking for another David, another Judah the Maccabee. Someone who will lead a successful rebellion, defeat the occupying army, and restore their glory. That’s how they get it wrong.

And that’s why the chief priests and the scribes in Jerusalem absolutely panic.

They’ve seen this one before. They know what the triumphal greeting means.

Wanna-be liberators show up every few years. And when they start going after Roman soldiers? Rome cracks down hard. They kill everyone involved in the revolt. And the town where it starts, gets burned to the ground.

This time? It’s starting in Jerusalem.

So they set things in motion to kill Jesus. Before it’s too late. That’s how they get it wrong.

Even the Apostles don’t really understand what Jesus is doing. Some of them (Judas, Peter) get it horribly wrong.

Everybody’s getting it wrong.

Notice the impact that everybody getting it wrong, all the different ways they get it wrong, has on what Jesus does.

Right, it doesn’t. The fact that everybody is getting it wrong, has no impact at all on what Jesus does.

Why? Remember who Jesus is. Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity. Jesus is God. And God is always true to His own nature. That nature? Is love.

That doesn’t just mean that God is loving. Although He is. But that there’s more to it. As St. John tells us, God is love. God literally is love.

And the pattern of redemption that we see played out in Holy Week is God’s fundamental nature, that love played out in the ultimate act of mercy.

Poured out unconditionally for people who get it wrong. For people who’ve done so much to not deserve it. For people who’ve worked against it. For people just like us.

Because love isn’t just a feeling. Or a thought. Love isn’t just wanting the best for the beloved.

Love is an action. Love in action means actively working for the best for the beloved.

And love in action doesn’t just mean actively working for the best when everyone’s at their most loveable. When no one has made any mistakes. When it’s easy.

Love in action means loving people who’ve got it wrong. Love in action means loving people who are going wrong.

Love in action means salvage.

What do I mean by salvage? I mean seeing what something could be. Maybe that’s what it used to be. Or maybe that’s what it never got the chance to be. And doing what needs to be done so that it can be. That’s salvage.

Here’s how I think about it. There used to be a little antique shop behind Sacred Heart convent. The front of the store by the window had the expensive stuff. As you went towards the back, things got less expensive. In a little room in the back was the cheap stuff.

It was cheap because it needed repairs. Or it needed to be refinished. Or it was damaged goods.

That’s where I shopped. Because that’s what I could afford.

In a box in that little back room, there were the pieces of what had been a foot stool. They had been used hard. Some of them had split and needed to be glued back together. All of them needed to be refinished. There was a lot of work to do, before you could put it back together to make a foot stool.

The first time I saw that box, it was marked $25. With all the work that it needed, and what it was going to cost me for glue and stain and filler and fabric, I didn’t have the money.

A few weeks later, I came back and the box was marked down to $15. To me, the potential was obvious. But it was still too much.

When I came back a month later, the box was still there. But now it was marked down to $5. The owner remembered me and said, “I was hoping you’d come back.”

With a big smile, I scooped it up and said, “I’ll take it. This one’s mine.”

I had a great time repairing and rebuilding that foot stool. And I still have it.

But as much fun as I had fixing that foot stool – it’s nothing next to how God fixes things.

Because God’s version of salvage is so much greater.

God’s version is salvaging the opportunity that was lost. Salvaging the dream that was crushed.

God’s version is salvaging someone who’s struggling. Salvaging someone who’s lost in addiction.

Salvaging someone who’s been hurt, who sees themselves as damaged goods.

Salvaging someone who thinks they’ve done too much, that they’re too far gone.

Because that is what God’s love in action looks like.

God totally ignores all the ways that you and I get it wrong. Everything we’ve done to not deserve it. All the ways we’ve worked against it.

You and I may feel like a box of parts. Beat up. Needing a lot of work. But that’s not how God sees us.

Instead, God looks at us with love. And sees what we could be. What we used to be. What we never got the chance to be. What needs to be done so that we can be.

And with a big smile says, “I’ll take her. I’ll take him. This one’s mine.”

That is how God sees you.

That’s the point of Holy Week, the point of Good Friday, the point of Easter.

Because our God is the God of salvage.

Sunday’s Readings

[sirfrogsworth]

My First Big Date

Speaking of The Phantom of the Opera, I don’t think I’ve ever actually told the full story of when I went to see the show for the first time. I kinda spoiled the ending in a previous post, but I think you might all enjoy a tale of Teenage Mutant Ninja Froggie.

It was 1998. I was a humorous, chubby, 17 year old high school junior. 

For reference, here is a photo of a beardless be-suited me and I am... umm... surrendering to the British Army?

There was this girl. She was cute and silly and gave good hugs. She liked to laugh and I liked making her laugh—so that worked out to be mutually beneficial. In our three years of friendship we had our share of adventures together. We were both huge theater nerds. We auditioned for all the plays and if we didn’t get parts we would take a job on the crew. We were in several plays together. We were in choir together. We even had the same private singing teacher. 

She once had surgery on her ankle due to years of ballet abuse. Our theater had these big awkward steps that were not crutch-friendly and it took her forever to descend them. And since I was the strongest person around (not a huge brag in the theater department), I would always run to the top of the steps and carry her down to the stage... An-Officer-and-a-Gentleman style. 

We used to sit next to each other in chemistry class. At some point she lost her voice for like an entire week. I can’t remember why, but if she talked even a little she could’ve damaged something. And since singing was a big part of her life, she didn’t want to risk even a whisper. She was a naturally outgoing person and was having a very hard time communicating. I could tell she was starting to get depressed. I decided to buy her a bunch of multicolored Post-its so she could write everything she wanted to say and stick them on people’s desks, lockers, foreheads... whatever. In solidarity, I chose to not speak when we were together and wrote jokes for her on the Post-its. It cheered her up quite a bit. 

I think it goes without saying I had a pretty big crush on her.

We were entranced by big production Broadway musicals. Phantom was her absolute favorite show. Mine was actually Jesus Christ Superstar. (Have you heard that high note in Gethsemane?) But I loved Phantom too.

I’m a “grand gesture” kind of person. I've always been that way. So, one night in the parking lot of Steak ‘n Shake after performing in one of our high school plays, I presented her with a single rose and a ticket to The Phantom of the Opera. 

On the ticket was a Post-it Note that said, “Will you go to a play with me?” 

Being able to talk by then, she screamed at a pitch only dogs could hear and agreed to accompany me to the big show.

My mom keeps everything and made a collage of all my theater stuff. Including my ticket stub and Playbill. 

(You can also see me in my Judge Hathorne puritan costume from our production of The Crucible.)

ENHANCE!

I was a poor high school junior at that point. But I used a bunch of the money I made working at Best Buy to get floor level seats. There were no online ticket sales back then, so I actually went to the physical box office an hour before they opened to buy the absolute best tickets possible.

I was really hoping for dead center, but I got as close as I could to the stage.

I feel like that is pretty respectable for a teenager who spent 3 months selling computers and dubious extended warranties to save up a hundred and twenty bucks just to impress a girl.

We both dressed to the nines. I wore a suit that was purchased for a funeral the year before. She wore a form-fitting, full length, satin blue cocktail dress. She looked absolutely stunning. 

I escorted her in my light blue 1987 Chevrolet Cavalier that I inherited from my grandmother. I think you'll agree it was a chariot suitable for a princess.

It had all the amenities—including power steering and AM radio.

End of amenities.  

The Fabulous Fox Theatre wasn’t exactly in the most fabulous part of town. I printed out directions from Yahoo! Maps using my Canon Bubble Jet printer and navigated carefully through some rough neighborhoods and even rougher streets. Avoiding potholes was fruitless—as you’d end up just hitting different potholes. The bumps were loud and scary and gave us quite a jolt each time. My noble steed had a stiff suspension and I was worried one of these concrete maws would eat a tire. 

Considering we were going to someplace fancy, I thought maybe we were lost and in the wrong area. But we were not. The Fox is just a diamond in the rough. 

Back then, before an extensive remodel, the exterior of The Fox Theatre was just as rundown as the surrounding neighborhood. But I think the Fox uses TARDIS technology. Once you opened the doors of the aging, dilapidated brick building and saw the inside, it was like you were entering the lobby of the Titanic. (Before the iceberg and the drowning and stuff.)

I wondered how all of this was inside that unassuming rundown brick exterior.

And when you entered the seating area, it looked... immense. 

It was the biggest single room I’d ever seen up to that point.

The show was fantastic and our mouths were agape with awe the entire time. The acoustics were mind-boggling. You could hear every instrument, every voice, every sound effect—every detail filled the entire room with perfect clarity. The show was every bit the spectacle I was told. It had movie quality special effects... IN PERSON. The sets glided on and off stage as if a telekinetic wizard was moving them about. 

And the bit with the chandelier blew my tiny teenage mind.

When the show was over I was a nervous wreck. If you hadn’t guessed, this entire evening was a bit of a sales pitch. I was auditioning for the part of “thoughtful boyfriend.” And my big plan was to show her the night of her life and then declare my everlasting like before saying goodnight.

I drove her back home and escorted her to the front door. I stumbled my way through some speech I had prepared and told her all the reasons I thought she was the bee’s knees. 

I took a deep breath and mustered every bit of courage I had. I told her how much I liked her and asked if she had any feelings for me. 

She paused.

It was a very long pause.

Or it felt very long.

I think time slowed down in my brain and it was only a second or two.

But I knew it wasn’t a good pause.

“I’m sorry. I only see you as a friend.”

She thanked me for everything and told me it was one of the best nights of her life. She gave me a big long hug. We talked a bit more and agreed to be “just friends.” Which I was perfectly okay with. She was a great friend and I didn’t want to lose that.

In that moment I was trying my best not to show my heart sinking to my feet and my eyes welling up with tears. I was a bit gobsmacked. I was certain this was going to end with a long dramatic kiss set to swelling orchestral music. 

I mean, every movie I had seen taught me if you do the grand gesture, you get the girl. 

WHAT THE HECK, MOVIES?

She finally stepped inside and I shuffled into the night, mope-walking with shoulders sunk. I got into my grandma’s old car and drove away—blasting the AM radio to distract me from heartbreak.

No, the night didn’t end as I had planned, but I was proud of myself for taking the chance. 

And the show really was fantastic.

No regrets.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Money, Money, Money Part 1

Pairing: mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader, slight Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: lots of swearing, silly drunk mobs, mentions of alcoholism, parody, Peter is adult, is this a crack fic??

Words: 2578.

Summary: When Steve finds out somebody has stolen their money, Bucky realizes he has to take his ass off the leather couch in his office, finally.

P.S. This is my first attempt to write humor and I’m sorry in advance for everything I’ve written here 😅

_________________

“BITCH, DID I STUTTER WHEN I SAID TO KEEP THAT SAFE CLOSED AT ALL TIMES?”

Allyson massaged her temples softly and let out a groan: if Mr. Rogers continued to yell like that, he would definitely choke soon. This morning he had been pretending to be the death, vengeance and fury, ready to kick the ass of her immediate superior, James Barnes, who acted like he was deaf, unable to pull himself from the couch where he slept after getting drunk as a fish last night. Oh, poor Bucky. Apparently, he fucked things up again if Mr. Rogers stormed into his office like he was getting chased by a 200-pound dog.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a...” glancing at a pouting man-child with a three-day beard, Steve covered his face with his palm and let out an exasperated sigh, “... respectable woman who would die of shame if she saw you now!”

“Come on, Stevie,” the man yawned, finally moving his huge, muscular body up to sit instead of just laying on the couch since he felt a little guilty Steve was getting all riled up while he just chilled, “why so serious? Yeah, somebody took a bit of cash from the safe, it’s not a big deal.”

Allyson heard everything as if they were speaking right in front of her - Bucky was a real Mr. Cheapo who didn’t want to rent an office with decent walls - and quickly closed her ears, wishing she had taken her earplugs today. Her boss just made a grave mistake, and now both of them were going to pay for it with their eardrums.

“NOT A BIG DEAL? NOT A BIG DEAL, YOU MASSIVE BAG OF DOUCHE?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY WAS THERE, HUH?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THOSE MONEY WERE FOR?!”

Seriously, she considered getting a new job, but these free daily standup shows were both tiring and so fucking funny she was afraid she might wet her seat.

“Oh my fucking God, Bucky, I swear I’ll kill you, I’ll... no, I have a better idea!” Steve gave his best friend a dirty look. “I’ll call your uncle. Yeah, you know which one. He’ll be sooo happy to take you drunk ass to jail and then give your mama a call. I bet she has a cure for both your attitude and alcoholism.”

“You wouldn’t do that!”

Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Bucky quickly got up, almost falling to the floor but holding on the leather chair in the very last second. When Steve talked about calling his uncle, a chief of police of the neighboring town where his whole family lived, it meant things were going bad. Real bad.

“Bucky, it was the part we were going to invest into Pierce’s casino. I have to take it to him tomorrow morning. TOMORROW FUCKING MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU STINKING DRUNK?”

“I’m drunk but not deaf, Steve!”

“Oh my God, I’m driving you to a rehab, go gather your stuff right now!”

Allyson sighed, getting up and proceeding to choose the most beautiful cup to fill it with fresh coffee: when their conflicts escalated to threats, it meant her boss would soon start to sweet-talk, apologizing to his best friend and promising to sober up and get things right. Every time she felt like Mr. Rogers would really do something to Bucky, the guy used his natural charisma and charm and got away with anything by just reminding Steve how he fought for his best friend in the dark alleys when Rogers was a sick, skinny kid. It worked every damn time.

There they were again, talking about same things with Bucky swearing on his mother’s life that he will find the money and bring it back to Steve. Usually it meant the threats were coming to an end, and soon Mr. Rogers would open the door and come out red as a lobster, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. There he would see her with a cup of nice coffee with cream and two spoons of sugar just like he preferred, gladly accepting it and saying nobody understand him but her. Then Allyson would smile compassionately, listen to his small talk before he went out the office, and wait until her grumpy boss would fall out the room, reeking alcohol, and ask her what the fuck had happened yesterday.

After that in a couple of minutes things would finally settle down, and Allyson would have a chance to give a call to her best friend.

_______________________________

Your day couldn’t start better: you had finally received your Amazon order - hooray to the stupid makeup tools you would use, like, once a year - and even watched your favorite Netflix series with a cup of a fragrant coffee with marshmallows because it was Sunday and you were finally free from both work and cleaning the apartment. It felt so nice to just do absolutely nothing, laying on your couch with a piece of pizza in your hand. Seriously, even a workaholic like you had to do it more often.

Your lazy morning was interrupted by Peter, a sweet college student who was getting into troubles more often than a drunk in a local bar: you seriously considered calling him Harry Potter after you found him half-naked with a scratch on his forehead standing in the corridor of your building and holding a broom. To protect himself from bullies, he said, by the look on his face you could tell it was as good as a magic wand against 6"4 ft tall guys, seriously.

Since he rented an apartment with other unlucky nerds who had zero skills how to survive in this cruel world, you ended up nearly baby-sitting Peter, patching him up after he was getting in a fight and lending him some money time after time when he struggled to pay rent or buy food. His parents were elderly people with income below average, but they still did whatever they could to give him an education, so you decided to give the guy a hand.

Now that baby was standing in front of you, lit up like a Christmas tree, with a bouquet of wonderful pink roses, big box of hand-crafted chocolates and a whole bag of what looked like some very fine food, even a bottle of champagne clinking inside.

"Good morning, Fairy Godmother! I came to bring back what I owe you!" His smile was a mile wide when he looked at your face, happy to the point he couldn't stand still, dancing like those Duracell rabbits in the tv ad.

"You're up early, Cinderella."

You yawned, laughing when you saw the guy pouting at the nickname you gave him - tf he expected for calling you Fairy Godmother?

"Don't stand there, come in."

When he actually handed you the flowers and chocolates, giving you a quick peck on the cheek shyly, you froze, finally realizing he brought all this for you. Wait, what? Where the heck did he get so much money to buy that expensive stuff? You thought he was helping his other neighbor who was planning to finally propose to his girlfriend. Perplexed to the point you nearly missed that peck, you blinked at tomato red Peter.

"Please don't tell me you robbed your 90-year-old paralytic professor."

"Why don't you ask if I robbed a bank?" He pouted again, putting the bag on the floor and getting a hundred dollar banknote out of his old leather wallet. "I actually came to thank you for everything you've done for me. And I didn't rob anyone! I got a real job!"

"Real job?" You eyed him curiously. "But don't you already have a job in delivery?"

"Pfft, you can't call it a job. It was getting one nasty smelling pizza from one place to the other while looking miserable."

You barely held your laugh, leaving the bouquet and chocolates on the side table and rubbing guy's back. Poor Peter, nobody was giving him a hand - while you couldn't question people's decision since the guy wasn't the most reliable one, it was still a shame he wasn't treated decently as if all of them weren't young and careless once.

Wait, but who on Earth gave him such a well-paid job all of a sudden? He must have spent hundreds of dollars on the bouquet, chocolates, food and champagne, not even counting those 100 dollars he owed.

Oh God.

"Please don't tell me you're working for some shady business." You looked at him in horror, your hand flying to your mouth. "Peter, is it Tony's band?!"

"Jesus woman, why would I work for some stupid mob." The guy rolled his eyes, and you sighed in relief, not knowing what to except from this trouble on two skinny legs. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing bad! I just have to keep it a secret before I get a contract. Once I figure it out, I’ll explain everything, I swear!”

“Alright, alright, don’t stress over it, I’m not your Ma.” Smirking, you went to take a square glass vase you hadn’t use in ages, filling it with water to drop the bouquet inside. “Let’s celebrate it, then! Woah, careful there, give me that bottle until you drop it on my clean floor, I’ve been scrubbing it for hours yesterday!”

_______________________

Bucky still felt like Steve was making too much of a big deal out of it: obviously, it was Tony who went to him at night when Bucky was already drunk like a monkey, celebrating the birth of Clint’s daughter. Nobody else had the courage to steal from him, Steve’s right hand, an ex-soldier who had a reputation of a man killing with the first punch. Not that Bucky ever killed anybody, actually being a ex-trumpet in an army band...

Anyway, the man was heading over to Stark’s Tower, a motel where he and all his guys lived when his wife Pepper was out of town. Pepper had definitely been out of town lately since Tony didn’t call: when she was coming back, Steve and Tony were having a two-day truce with nobody getting in a fight because it was making Mrs. Stark upset, and when she was upset, both Steve and Tony didn’t risk getting out of their holes to face this enraged blonde woman who could make anyone wet themselves with one her glance. If there were anyone killing with just one punch in the town, it got to be Pepper.

As he got closer in his Cadillac that looked like it went through fire and water before being sold to Bucky, Barnes stared at the motel suspiciously: it was strangely quiet with everyone hiding inside, not a man guarding the motel’s entrance. What the hell happened? Tony loved showing off, pretending he ruled over the town, and he would definitely act like a king after stealing Steve’s and his money. It was unbelievable Bucky so nobody welcoming him with a smirk.

Hoping he didn’t use all that money for emptying a liquor store, Bucky parked the car and went to the motel, dying to have some beer: one heartless blonde boss of his emptied his fridge.

“Oh, more drinking partners returning to continue the fun, huh?”

Bucky froze immediately, staring at Pepper who stood in the doorway with a face of an iron maiden. Jesus fucking Christ. She returned to the city way before Tony told him, and it was clear she found him not in the condition she expected to. While Bucky considered whether it was better to run, Tony’s head appeared somewhere behind his wife, and Barnes saw Tony was as drunk as him, if not even more. He could see a huge blue mark from Pepper’s heavy hand on Stark’s cheek.

“Who’s that, honey?” The man asked innocently, earning an enraged glance from his wife, and Bucky thought he should have run. “Hi, Buck! Come on in, it’s ok if you didn’t bring beer even if I asked twice.”

Oh. Something was going on. Of course, Bucky could rat the man out immediately, telling Pepper he wasn’t drinking with Tony yesterday’s night, but he wasn’t such a heartless bastard - by the look on Stark’s face Barnes could see his sweet blonde wifey would beat poor Tony to death with her Dior handbag.

“Sorry, I blacked out for a couple of hours in my car.” He mumbled, bowing his head in respect. “Pepper, such a pleasure to see you.”

“Come on in, alcoholic.” Her gaze was heavy, and Bucky shivered a little, carefully leaving his shoes near the door and scurrying away to the coach where Tony sat, nervously biting his fingers. “Well, do you wanna tell me something, huh? How many hookers have you brought here yesterday?”

Glancing to Tony and back to Pepper, Barnes suddenly realized his frenemy had been so drunk he had no hecking idea whether somebody really brought hookers to the motel - it was a total taboo, but once they got drunk they could barely control themselves. Once they literally woke up to a Santa Claus singing Jingle Bells in the tub in the middle of June because Tony missed Christmas.

Of course, Stark would never slip up the night before Pepper was coming back to town, but, apparently, she didn’t stay with her mom for as long as she planned, and Tony was royally fucked.

“I’ve asked you a question.”

And now Bucky was, too, if he didn’t think of something quick. Of course, he could tell her the truth, but it meant losing Tony completely, and Barnes didn’t want that. A real mafioso should have at least one strong enemy, right?

“I’m sorry, Pepper, but I don’t think there were any hookers here last night.” He said, carefully choosing words. “You see, first, Tony never allows us to. Second, we’re good Christians. We would never invite some hookers when we celebrated the birth of Clint’s daughter!”

As he got silent, enjoying the effect his words were having on Pepper, Bucky looked at the man sitting to his right, watching Tony’s eyes watering: it was definitely God himself who sent Barnes his way that morning, saving his from near death. Nothing would work better than this excuse. Clint and all Bucky’s guys were so drunk to the point they barely remembered what had happened, and it would be easy to convince them Tony and his gang came to see Barnes for something and ended up staying with all of them.

Besides, there was a nice bonus Bucky could add to make it work even better.

“By the way, Clint named her Natasha. That’s also the name of your mom, right?”

By the look on Tony’s face the man realized he was ready to sing.

“How did he know my mom’s name?” Pepper eyed Steve’s right hand distrustfully, but he could tell she was less irritated.

“Oh, you know, he and his wife couldn’t choose the name, so we started saying whatever names we knew, and Tony mentioned Natasha.”

For a second Bucky thought Stark was going to kiss him through excess of joy.

When he finally left the motel, getting his pack of beer given him by lovely Pepper who changed the anger to mercy, Tony ran out of the house after him, giving him a pat on the shoulder and whispering quietly, “I own you one, brother.”

Bucky sighed. Stark didn’t take the money.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne​​ @alexakeyloveloki​​ @helenaeisenhower​​ @villanellevi​​ @hurricanerin​​ @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherubwrites​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysbunny​ @soleil-dor​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @dillybuggg​ @literate-lamb​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @jaysayey​ @megzdoodle​ @gotnofucks​ @lux-ravenwolf​ @iheartsebandchris​ @ximebebx​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @sourpatchspinster​

[jgoose13]

chenford+ “where the hell is Lucy?!“ (based on the promo) :)

[I’m so sorry, Anon. I know you wanted canon, but I saw this and I’ve just got Mob Bosses AU kicking around too much in my head and couldn’t pass up this prompt for it.]

The angry words ricocheted off the rafters of the warehouse. Tim’s most trusted lieutenants stood around in a semi-circle, glancing from one to the other, as if in some game to see who would be the one to break the news to him. 

His beloved had been taken.

Lucy had only been in Tim’s life for a few months, but the change in him had been drastic. Tim still broke bones and busted balls, of course, but his general demeanor had softened. 

Lucy had done that, and now she was gone. 

“Tim--” Angela began, then stopped. She hadn’t won the stare down, but as his best friend and most trusted number two, Angela felt it appropriate to break the news. 

“Where is she, Angela?” Tim asked in a low voice, the kind that sent low level rats skittering away. But Angela, having known Tim for so long, read deeper. 

Tim was scared. 

“We think...” Angela trailed off again, allowing herself a steadying inhale. “We think Stanton took her. While she was at the park with Kojo.” 

Tim stood as still as a statue for a beat, then another, and then he exploded. He turned to a nearby table with boxes of ammunition for the guns they were pushing to the Russians later, and swept his arms across the table. Angela winced as all that metal ting ting-ed across the floor. That’d be a hell of a clean up. 

“I knew I should’ve strangled that fucker when I had the chance,” Tim shouted, kicking at a few of the cartridges that had rolled to his feet. His face had reddened in his rage, and he worked his jaw so tightly, Angela feared he would crack some teeth. 

Silence fell over the warehouse as Tim paced. Angela glanced at the other lieutenants, who shuffled from foot to foot in their discomfort. It had been a long time since Tim Bradford expressed this much wrath. And it was frightening. 

“The dog?” Tim asked, his voice softer, less harsh. “Is the dog okay?” 

Of course he would ask. Tim knew Lucy loved that dog, and he’d reluctantly adopted the mutt. For her. If something happened to Lucy, that dog would be one of the few things he had of her. 

“Kojo’s fine,” Angela assured him. “He’s in the penthouse, laying by the door waiting for his mama to come home.” 

Tim sucked in a breath through his nostrils, and let it out, like a damn angry bull. His eyelids shut for a moment, and Angela could tell he was gathering what strength and logic he could muster. 

“Okay...” Was all he said before he turned, heading into the warehouses’s office where he occasionally conducted business. After a few minutes, he emerged wearing the strongest kevlar vest money could buy, and a M4. He loaded a magazine in with a click, and had strapped extra mags to his belt. 

“So... you’re just gonna go in as a one man army?” Angela crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Yes. I don’t want to ask or expect any of you to come with me. It’s not exactly what I pay you for,” Tim replied, resting the M4 against his shoulder. 

“Boss, you know we’re comin’ with you,” Mack, his long time friend, said. 

The rest of his lieutenants murmured their agreement. 

Tim, who did not wear his emotions on his very short, tight sleeves, looked beyond grateful for the people he had surrounded himself with. 

“Alright. Get what you want, and we’ll leave in ten.” 

Just as they pivoted on their heels to move, the creak of the warehouse’s door opened and then closed with a metallic thud. Tim, and everyone else, looked to the source of the noise. 

It took them a minute for their brains to process what their eyes saw. 

Lucy strode towards them, dressed in brown pants, a half untucked black shirt, a jean jacket, and black boots. Her hair was wild, strands undone from her low ponytail. There were blood splatters across her cheeks, and a large, dark blood stains on her jacket. 

“Luce...” Tim breathed, tossing the M4 onto the nearby table he’d cleared, and ate up the space between them. He cradled her face in his hands, uncaring of the blood transferring to his fingers. 

He didn’t have to ask. 

“It’s not mine,” Lucy whispered. Tim leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. 

“Jesus Christ, I was so scared.” 

“I’m fine,” Lucy soothed, curling her fingers around his wrists and holding on tightly. “He’s dead. Stanton won’t be bothering us again.” 

Any other time, Tim would’ve been fucking ecstatic. But the relief to see her alive, unharmed, and so breathtakingly beautiful outweighed the importance of that fucker being six feet under. 

“After we get you cleaned up and I fuck you, I want to hear all about what you did to him...” 

Inbox Meme: Send me a ship + a sentence and I’ll write the next 5 [or more] Sentences.

[cardest]

Tennessee playlist

I’m going to Memphis! This is the mighty Tennessee - Memphis & Nashville playlist. You can’t tell the story of rock n roll without mentioning Memphis. Mississippi and Nashville, such a great history of music in this region. Chuck D hits things off with the ultimate introduction. Hit play here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

This playlist has it all. Soul, blues and rock n roll. We take a journey back to the beginning of country as well, with Nashville and finish up at Dollywood. Hope you dig it.

Tennessee - Mississippi - Arkansas

001 Henry Rollins & Chuck D - Rise Above 002 Clutch -  Devil & Me 003 Paul Simon - Graceland 004 Isaac Hayes - Memphis Trax 005 Scott Walker - Thats How I Got to Memphis 006 AC/DC - let there be rock 007 Johnny Cash -  Country Boy 008 Chuck Berry -  Back To Memphis 009 Jay Reatard - Gree, Money, Useless Children 010 Lukah - Black Dragon 011 King Curtis - Memphis Soul Stew 012 Rosetta Howard & the Harlem Hamfats - Delta Bound 013 Nots - In Glass 014 Pere Ubu - Memphis 015 Loretta Lynn - The Pill 016 Howlin Wolf - Smokestack Lightnin 017 Rory Gallagher - The Mississippi Sheiks 018 Crime and the City Solution - Streets Of West Memphis 019 River City Tanlines - Met You Before 020 Johnny Cash - Going To Memphis 021 Al Green - Get Back Baby 022 Kim Salmon & The Surrealists - The Zipper 023 Booker T & the MG - Melting Pot 024 Pussycat - Mississippi 025 Boswell Sisters - Roll On, Mississippi, Roll On 026 Aretha Franklin   - Muddy Water 027 The Cramps - Garbageman 028 HASH REDACTOR - Good Sense 029 Optic Sink - Personified 030 Angry Angles - Blockhead 031 Big Star - Thirteen 032 Memphis Jug Band -  Going Back to Memphis 033 North Mississippi AllStars - K.C. Jones (On The Road Again) 034 Bass Drum Of Death -  Bad Reputation 035 Today Is the Day -  The Devil's Blood 036 Walk the Line Soundtrack- Get Rhythm 037 Jack White -  Temporary Ground 038 Jerry Lee Lewis - A Damn Good Country Song 039 The Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Rumors 040 Saving Abel - Pine Mountain (The Dance of the Poor Proud Man) 041 The Oxford Circle - Foolish Woman 042 Bobbie Gentry - Greyhound Goin' Somewhere 043 Reigning Sound - A Little More Time 044 NINA SIMONE - MISSISSIPPI GODDAM! 045 Laurie Anderson - Hiawatha 046 Glen Campbell - Burning Bridges 047 Dolly Parton - Hillbilly Willy 048 Elvis Presley - Guitar Man 049 Blue Oyster Cult - Divine Wind 050 Sammy Hagar - Halfway To Memphis 051 Izzy Stradlin   - Memphis                       052 Johnny Cash -  Run Softly, Blue River 053 Iron Horse - Unchained 054 The Cramps - Human Fly 055 Faces - Memphis 056 Jack Oblivian - Rat City 057 The Cooters - Bustin' Loose 058 Mott the Hoople - All The Way From Memphis 059 Dusty Springfield -  Breakfast in Bed 060 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Tupelo 061 Chicago - Blues In The Night             062 Crossin Dixon - Guitar Slinger 063 Strummin' With The Devil - And the Cradle Will Rock 064 Stray Cats -  Can't Go Back to Memphis 065 Elvis Presley - Suspicious Minds 066 Suzi Quatro - Can't Trust Love 067 Lost Sounds - There's Nothing   068 Ike & Tina Turner ~ River Deep, Mountain High 069 Neil Diamond - Memphis Flyer 070 Julien Baker - hardline 071 The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion - Memphis Soul Typecast 072 Isaac Hayes  - Groove-A-Thon 073 Otis Clay - Trying To Live My Life Without You 074 Tim McGraw - Don't Mention Memphis 075 Eric Burdon & War - Blues For Memphis Slim 076 Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Blues Train 077 Sweet Knives - I DON'T WANNA DIE 078 Cream - Four Until Late 079 Grateful Dead - Golden Road 080 Huey Lewis and the  NEWS - Function At The Junction 081 The Cramps - I Was A Teenage Werewolf 082 Jesse Winchester_ The Brand New Tennessee Waltz 083 Dorsey Burnette - Tall Oak Tree 084 Field Music - Time In Joy 085 Jay Reatard -  Blood Visions 086 The Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Women 087 Quintron & Miss Pussycat  - Block the comet 088 Al Green - Let's Stay Together 089 The Mountain Goats - Getting Into Knives 090 Johnny Cash -  Tennessee Flat Top Box 091 Robert Pete Williams & Robert “Guitar" J. Welch - Mississippi Heavy Water Blues 092 MARY JAMES - MAKE THE DEVIL LEAVE ME ALONE 093 Ministry - Mississippi Queen 094 U.S. Bombs - Rocks in Memphis 095 Nazareth - Jet Lag 096 The Bar-Kays - Holy Ghost 097 Ty Segall - Despoiler Of Cadaver 098 His Hero Is Gone - Like Weeds 099 Jerry Lee Lewis - Memphis Beat 100 Generation X =  King Rocker 101 The Doobie Brothers - Wild Ride 102 Bad Company - Whiskey Bottle 103 Black Stone Cherry - When The Weight Comes Down 104 Buddy Miles - Memphis Train 105 Memphis Slim - Rockin' The House (Beer Drinkin' Woman) 106 David Clayton Thomas  - Wish The World Would Come to Memphis 107 Lost Sounds - Better Than Somethings 108 Alice Cooper - Ubangi Stomp 109 Tom Waits -  Don't Go Into The Barn 110 Hank Snow - Music Makin' Mama From Memphis 111 Phil Ochs - Heres to the State of Misssippi 112 Reigning Sound  - Your Love Is A Fine Thing 113 Pixies -  Letter to Memphis 114 Bob Dylan - Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again 115 The Colorblind James Experience - Considering A Move To Memphis 116 B.B.King - Rock Me Baby 117 Carla Thomas - B-A-B-Y 118 Aquarian Blood - A Love That Leads To War 119 Nights Like These - Scavenger's Daughter 120 Rufus Thomas - Walking the Dog 121 Clutch -  The House That Peterbilt 122 Lyal Strickland - O Arkansas 123 Don Bryant - How Do I Get There 124 The Sensational Barnes Brothers - Trying To Go Home 125 Squirrel Nut Zippers - Memphis Exorcism 126 Faster Pussycat - Tattoo 127 The Rolling Stones - Memphis Tennessee 128 Alcatrazz -  Sons And Lovers 129 Evil Army - Violence And War 130 Deep Purple - Somebody Stole My Guitar (Purpendicular 11) 131 Dwight Yoakam - Guitars, Cadillacs 132 UFO - Natural Thing 133 Thunderbridge Bluegrass Boys - Tennessee 134 Confederate Railroad - Queen of Memphis 135 The Box Tops - The Letter 136 Jerry Lee Lewis - Night Train To Memphis 137 Reverend John Wilkins - Trouble 138 Phil Lynott - Kings Call (feat. Mark Knopfler) 139 Old Crow Medicine Show - Motel in Memphis 140 Candy Lee- Here in Arkansas 141 Pharoah Sanders - You've Got To Have Freedom 142 Molly Hatchet - Mississippi Moon Dog 143 Rwake - Crooked Rivers 144 CARL PERKINS & PAUL SIMON - A Mile Out Of Memphis 145 Eddie Floyd - Knock On Wood 146 Al Green - Talk to me 147 Mush - Eat the Etiquette 148 PJ Harvey - Memphis 149 EX-CULT  - Clinical Study 150 Isaac Hayes  - Mans Temptation 151 Lil’ Jon & Eastside Boyz - Rep Yo City 152 Rufus Wainwright - Memphis Skyline 153 Stray Cats - 18 Miles to Memphis 154 Amasa Hines - Earth and Sky 155 Joe Henderson -  Back Road 156 Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash - Memphis Woman 157 Norma Jean - Memphis Will Be Laid To Waste 158 Fess Parker - Ballad of Davy Crockett 159 Assjack -  Redneck Ride 160 Brother Andy & His Big Damn Mouth - Social Lube 161 The Replacements - Alex Chilton 162 Ann Peebles - The handwriting is on the wall 163 The Highwaymen -  Big River 164 The Cult - Memphis Hip Shake 165 STEVE EARLE -  Hillbilly Highway 166 The BO-KEYS featuring OTIS CLAY -Got To Get Back 167 Rush - Tom Sawyer 168 Class Of '55: Memphis Rock & Roll Homecoming - Birth Of Rock And Roll 169 Hank Williams Jr - Memphis Belle 170 Sam Moore & Dave Prater - Soul Man 171 Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Bloc Bloc Bloc 172 Kenny Rogers & The First Edition  - Just Dropped In 173 Linda Heck - pictures of dead people 174 Carla Thomas - Sugar 175 Three Mafia 6 - Mystic Stylez 176 Osborne Brothers- Rocky Top 177 The Beverly Hillbillies Theme Song 178 Wilson Pickett - Barefootin' 179 Dolly Parton - Jolene 180 Charlie Daniels - long haired country boy 181 The Civil Wars - From This Valley 182 Jill Jack - Gettin' On In Memphis (The Elvis Song) 183 Huckleberry Finn and His Friends - Opening title 184 Dead Cross -  Skin of a Redneck 185 Johnny Cash - I Never Picked Cotton 186 Old Crow Medicine Show -  Wagon Wheel 187 Isaac Hayes  - That love feeling 188 Aretha Franklin - I say a little prayer 189 Little Milton - What Do You Do When You Love Somebody 190 Howlin' Wolf - Spoonful 191 Weird Al" Yankovic - Money For Nothing / Beverly Hillbillies 192 The Oblivians - I'll Be Gone 193 OT Sykes - Stone crush on you 194 The Mad Lads  - Come closer to me 195 The Box Tops - Choo Choo train 196 Bobby Blue Bland - dreamer 197 Wanda Jackson - Rip It Up 198 Junior Parker - Love Ain't Nothin' but a Business Goin' On 199 The Nightingales ft. Tommy Tate - Just a Little Overcome 200  The Louvin Brothers - Satan is real 201 Overture "Big River" - (1985 Original Broadway Cast) 202 Ike & Tina Turner - Shake 203 Playa Fly - fly shit 204 Adia Victoria - Different Kind Of Love 205 Grateful Dead - Tennessee Jed 206 Red Hot Chili Peppers - Backwoods 207 Otis Redding - Tennessee Waltz 208 Nashville Pussy - The Late Great USA 209 The Paperhead - The true poet 210 Tomahawk - South Paw 211 Night Beats - Her Cold Cold Heart 212 Forest of Tygers - human monster 213 LOSS - All Grows on Tears 214 Charlie McCoy - Wayfaring Stranger 215 Dick Stusso - Modern Music 216 Eddie Noack - Aint the Reaping Ever Done 217 Jason & the Scorchers - Greetings From Nashville   218 Jasmin Kaset and Quichenight - A Single Right Word 219  Gospel Keynotes - Give Me My Flowers 220   WEEN - Scrape the Mucus off My Brain 221 Shannon Shaw - Broke My Own 222 The Jesus Lizard - Blue Shot 223 Eddy Arnold    - Tennessee Stud 224 Clutch - Pure Rock Fury 225 Today Is The Day -  Who Is The Black Angel? 226 Hank Williams Jnr - Tennessee River 227 The Dead Weather -  Bone House 228  Every Mother's Nightmare - Long Haired Country Boy 229 Motley Crue - She goes down 230 Waylon Jennings - Tennessee 231 Dolly Parton - Down On Music Row 232 Jello Biafra & Mojo Nixon - Lets Go Burn Ole Nashville Down 233 The Byrds - Nashville West 234 Sharon Van Etten - Every Time the Sun Comes Up 235 Bill Anderson ~ More Than A Bedroom Thing 236 Dottie West - Route 65 To Nashville 237 Intruder - The Martyr 238 Johnny Cash - Smiling Bill McCall 239 Lynard Skynyrd - Workin For MCA 240 The Everly Brothers  - Nashville Blues 241 Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood - Elusive Dreams 242 Nashville Bluegrass Band - Im Gonna Love You 243 Ringo Starr - No-No Song 244 Hank Williams - Hey, Good Lookin' 245 The Lovin Spoonful - Nashville Cats 246 They Might Be Giants - James K. Polk 247 Commander Cody  -  Back To Tennessee 248 Wanda Jackson - Shakin' All Over 249 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Grand Ole Opry Song 250 Tomahawk - Flashback 251 Megadeth -  Dystopia 252 Dolly Parton -  Train, Train 253 The Clovers - One Mint Julep 254 Trampled By Turtles - Whiskey 255 Tom T. Hall - Nashville is a Groovy Little Town 256 Muddy Waters - I am the blues 257 Foo Fighters - Congregation 258 Pavement - Strings Of Nashville 259 Joe Ely - Tennessees Not The State Im In 260 Waylon Jennings - Nashville Bum 261 The Charmels - As Long As I Got You 262 Eve Maret - Do my thing 263 SABATON - 82nd All the Way 264 Halfway To Hazard - Welcome To Nashville 265 Nashville Pussy - Go Motherfucker Go 266 Indigo Girls - Nashville 267 Snarls - Walk In The Woods 268 Steeler - Cold Day in Hell 269 Strummin' With The Devil  - Jamies Cryin' 270 spazz gummo love theme 271 The Cramps - Cornfed Dames 272 Saxon -  Solid Ball Of Rock 273 Al Green - Tired of Being Alone 274 Soul Friction - It's Out Of My Hands 275 Today Is the Day - Wheelin' 276 Jackie Lynn - Odessa 277 The Jesus Lizard - Nub 278 Bully - Where To Start 279 Sonny Boy Williamson II - Lonesome Cabin 280 Tomahawk - God hates a coward 281 The Louvin Brothers - Knoxville Girl 282 Tom Waits - Jitterbug Boys 283 The Evil Dead Soundtrack  - Bridge Out 284 Wanda Jackson - Thunder On The Mountain 285 Elvis Presley - Where Do I Go From Here 286 Booker T & the MGs - Back Home 287 Ezra Furman & the Harpoons - American Highway 288 Joe Ely - dream camera 289 Assjack - Tennessee Driver 290 Nashville Pussy  - We Want A War 291 Dwight Yoakam - A Thousand Miles From Nowhere 292 Hank Williams, Jr. - Knoxville Courthouse Blues 293 ZZ Top - My Head's in Mississippi 294 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band -  Honky Tonkin' 295 Dead Weather - Die by the Drop 296 The Black Belles - What can I do 297 Dolly Parton  - Cowgirl And The Dandy 298 The Secret Sisters  - I've Got a Feeling 299 Justin Townes Earle - Aint Got No Money 300 Tomahawk - M.E.A.T 301 Jex Thoth - The Places You Walk 302 Bill Carter - Road To Nowhere 303 Bill Dees (Roy Orbison back vocals) - Tennesse Owns My Soul 304 Karen Elson  - The Ghost Who Walks 305 The Who - Whiskey Man 306 Hank Williams III - Crazed Country Rebel 307 The Lost Sounds - I Get Nervous 308 Big Star - September Gurls 309 ZZ Top - Whiskey n Mama 310 Johnny Cash - God's Gonna Cut You Down 666 Isaac Hayes - Hyperbolicsyllablecsesquedalymistic

Hit play: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

[slater-later]

Clarence x Reader Flirt at the Bar

Audience: General

Warnings: None, flirting

Notes: At Y/N, insert your own name, pronouns, and preferred complimentary words. That way, Clarence uses what you like!

Read below the cuff!

For: @da3m0ns-exe

The two of you had met at an Irish pub a few blocks down the street. Dimly lit under the cheap green ‘chandeliers’, at least, they were trying to be, hanging over a narrow line of booths. A green shamrock sign buzzing in the corner window, listing O’ Conners next to the four leafed sign buzzing beside it.

It was a fine dump, gritty and warm and thick with cigarette smoke. A few old geezers sat at the bar, buzzing back large thick dark beers as they chatted in Greek. It was Detroit after all, and everyone was welcome. The D brought everyone together. And if you had a few bucks to spare, it would make your night worth while. The jukebox buzzed in the corner, firmly set from the 70’s and stacked high with classic 45’s. A quarter would get you two songs, and it would flip through the rest. Buzzing Marvin Gaye’s Through the Grape Vine through the open speakers. There were a few TV’s in the corner of the bar, one showing a Tigers baseball game and the other the racetrack. A chestnut filly bending over the corner and splitting from the pack. Her jockey lit a firecracker from out under her behind as he rode her to the front, cracking his crop as they crossed the finish line. Taking home 50k- something a brod in the corner was upset by. Throwing her hands up as she watched, swearing! Because she had bet the bar that #5 would win. California Folly, the chestnut mare, bit her for the win, and she slapped up her cash to the house. Her buddy chuckled to himself at her anger. The bartender greedily took her cash, smirking, as he slipped it into the cash register. He changed the chalk boards odds for the next race. A commercial flashed across the screen.

It was a bettin’ bar, and it was a Friday night. That meant, the race tracks were on. They even caught the signal from the tracks out West. Meaning people could get drunk and lose their money all night long. At least, far enough into the night to be firmly fucked by 10, and either pissed from losing their money or giddy because they made a decent buck. Either way, it meant the crowd pounded back drinks. The bar took home a load whether it was packed full or filled with crickets. 

Clarence was seated up at the bar, his army jacket slipped off and hanging on his chair. He slowly leafed through his comic, head buried deep in his book. He slowly drank, the rum and coke sitting at the edge of his lips, relaxed and quiet after a long day at work. 

He had closed up shop and came in for dinner, a burger and fries, and read the newest edition of Deadpool in his freetime. He actually had a small stack of them next to them. He had cashed his check and sorted the freshly delivered boxes before he locked up. Making a mental note to pay the old man in the morning- he would stuff the bills in the register tomorrow morning.

The new stuff sold fast, and that was exactly why he needed to make his pick before it hit the shelves. He had to be strategic! Take advantage of the perks of running the store!

You slid into the stool a few spots down, gesturing over to the bartender as he made his way over. He was built, wearing a plain black shirt that hung over his body. A gold chain that hung from his neck. He looked kind and quiet, gentle. He had worked there for several years.

“Whatcha’ having?”

  “Pabst,” You nodded, popping out your wallet.

“Pint or pitcher?”

“Pint.”

“Alright, but they’re $7 until 11.” He collected your cash and made his way up the bar, pouring your drink.

Clarence’s nose was in the comic, one hand holding the bridge of it while the other slowly set down the beer. Reaching out for a fry and mindlessly dabbing it into ketchup before it crawled to his mouth. Slowly inching closer. 

His long and shabby fry broke off, falling into his lap and getting on his jeans. You couldn’t help but to laugh. “You okay over there bud?” The bartender handed you your beer, curling in the glass as you took a sip. The foam made a fine mustache on your upper lip.

“Jesus!” He bit, pissed. He had just gotten to a good spot- he fucking didn’t want to stop! “I don’t know man.” He shook his head, nabbing a handful of napkins out of the dispenser and cleaning his lap. 

He finally looked up as you set down your glass. Catching the side of your face- “I ain’t pulin’ your chain, but ya got somethin’ on your face,” He grabbed another handful, passing it over. “A lil’ on here,'' He rubbed his upper lip, brushing his faint five o’ clock shadow.

You grabbed a napkin from him, quickly wiping it away before you got too embarrassed. Shit happens. “Thanks,” You muttered with a smile, softly laughing. Folding it afterwards and placing it under your glass. 

He nodded, reaching for his comic again. 

You were in a good mood and company always made it better. You had the urge to chat, he was attractive, after all. “So, whatcha readin’?”

He looked over, eyebrows raised. “It’s uh, Deadpool. Issue #7,” He put his thumb on the page and flopped it over to the front. Reaching out his arm to show you the cover. “It’ll hit the shelves tomorrow.”

“How’d you get your hands on that?”

“Oh,” He flashed a guilty smile. Caught. “I work at the comic book store down the street, this is next week's issue,” The cover showed Deadpool stepping forward, gun in hand, his red and black latex suite dressed with a heavy white jeweled overcoat and flashing plants. He was wearing the iconic Evil Presley suit, black wig and sunglasses and all. Finger-pointing at a very unpleasant Cable, probably cursing Wade for being alive. Or was it that he can’t die?

“It’s the new Deadpool and Cable issue. It’s a new series they’re doing, do you wanna look?” He offered it and you happily accepted. Taking your time as you flipped through the pages, reading the inside insert. The introduction.

He rattled on, “It’s not as good as some of his other series but then I saw the front cover. I wanted to grab it before we ran out. I’m a big Elvis fan,” He smiled softly. Watching you read.

“Oh?” You peered up, raising an eyebrow. A hook- Elvis wasn’t exactly your man, but it didn’t deter you. “Is he your favorite?”

He beamed as he sipped his glass, nodding as the glass left his lips, setting it down on the wet napkin. “Favorite? It doesn’t begin to describe how much I love that man,” He could rattle on for forever. Even blab again about how much he wanted to fuck Elvis. But, usually, that wasn’t the most widely loved small talk conversation? He was better off tabling that conversation for a later time. Unless he wanted to blow his chance when flirting with a hot person. A man needed to get lucky sometimes, alright? Sheesh, he didn’t think some bisexuality was a bad thing. Isn’t that, a, you know? A sexual fantasy for some folks?

He drilled a finger into the side of his temple, elbow up on the bar as he watched you. How your feet shifted in your sift as you curled up closer to him, leaning in, tenderly turning the page of a secretly, newly loved comic. Mashing up the two things that made him bounce up and down with pure excitement. He was delighted.

“I’m a huge fan, I’ve always been since I was a kid. My dad used to listen to him while I was growing up, and I’ve had the itch ever since. He changed rock n’ roll forever, for the better,” He would watch old tapes of his dancing and performing on stage, having become familiar and comforting to his body. It was something he could return to, regardless of how he felt, and know he felt comfort in.

That, and watching him dance up on stage was light lightening. A friend and a lover.

“What’s your favorite song?” You smirked, flipping a page. You were more interested in his eyes than the panel. Wondering if he had caught on. 

He slid from his seat to the one next to you, dragging his beer along with him. The bartender snapped up his long forgotten dinner. Wiping down the table. “Do you mind?” He gestured to the seat, checking in.

“No,” You shook your head smiling, your delight so easy to read. “Not at all,” You swore you could feel your heart skip a beat. Your body felt fresh, warmed by the flash of heat spreading through your cheeks. You hoped another drink of your beer would help, at least to calm the giddy building up inside of you.

You would cut yourself off at two beers. At the rate of your drinking, you’d been in the hole after three. Too drunk to drive and by the soft patter of the rain outside, you didn’t want to be stuck in the rain. Trying to wave down a cab as it poured, head buzzed and tired, ready to flop down in your bed and forced to make it back. Getting fucked up was fun, but getting home could be a challenge.

  The thought already sounded miserable. You’d much rather be here, with the jukebox, under the warm hum of the bear and its speakers. It switched over to You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine by Lou Rawls. 

“Good,” He smiled with a surprising amount of soft charm. Voice low as his pinky mused with his lip, eyes slow as they took in your body. 

He had to look away. 

FUCK! It wasn’t polite to do that shit, he was either going to get a drink thrown in his face again or something!

He kept his eyes up at the bar, tongue flashing across his teeth as he chuckled to his mind. He could be so fucking stupid! This Y/N was going to beat him. 

He fisted for his cigs in his flannel pocket, offering you one.

Okay, this guy was an idiot, but a cute one.

“Thanks,” You took a cig and slipped it between the side of your lips. Grabbing  your lighter in your coat pocket, prepared as a common smoker should. You lit both of your cigarettes.

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” You shot, releasing a draw downward. 

He snapped it out of his mouth, square in hand as he shook his head awake. “Shit, what was it again?” He laughed, he was losing his head around you. You sucked all the smarts out of his brain.

You elbowed him lightly, amused. “What’s your favorite Elvis song?”

He paused for a moment, getting his mind in gear. Quickly shuffling the different songs on his head- “Hound Dog, and then Blue Suede Shoes, and All Shook Up,” It was the fast, catchy beats of Elvis’s drawl that got him. The electricity that he exuded, that made him want to dance and grab the hand of a friend, a stranger, even an old person! 

It made him want to boogie to the music.

You snickered, he hit right on the money. Damn, this guy had taste. Of the few you knew well, those were it. “Where does Jailhouse Rock rank?”

“8th,” He said clear as day, pointent. It was clearly not his favorite, but a hot contender. He had, in fact, listened to every single god damn song Elvis had published. Including the Hawaiian soundtrack album, which was a partial wash. He thought Elvis was at best when he was shaking it for a crowd, not trying to play at movie making. Yet, it hadn’t stopped him from consuming them all. “I paused not because I didn’t have a top three, but because…” Shit, he got himself in a hole? Wasn’t he playing the ‘cool guy’ really well?

“Because?” You flicked into the ashtray, bringing your arm in for a draw. Raising your eyebrows at him as you drew, feeling the air.

“Because I was thinking about you,” He slipped both elbows on the bar, facing forward towards the line of liquor and head turned towards you. Smirk painted on his lips, shameless in his expression, “You’re very Y/N.” He smiled, eyes stilling on you as they peered into yours eyes, then passed down your shoulder. “And I don’t normally get to talk to a Y/N like you.” Usually, they either weren’t interested in talking about comics and Elvis. So, what was there to talk about? Stupid small talk they he didn’t know much about? It was much harder, trying to find a Y/N with similar interests.

Your face felt warm again. You finished off the rest of your drink. Quenching your fuzzy head with the sharp inhale of nicotine, trying to peel the flush off of your cheeks. You couldn’t hide it- his soft pink lips looked beautiful when they moved. Especially when they were saying such sweet words.

You slicked a hand across your face, hiding the bite of your red cheeks, “How about we get a booth in the corner? And you tell me a bit more about yourself?” It seemed like a good idea. And it would give you a moment, to collect yourself, before continuing your chat.

You raised a hand to the bartender. He turned and you held up two fingers. A pint for you each. 

“Hmph!” His spiky eyebrows peaked up, elated. “Sounds good to me!” He snickered, collecting his stack of comics and waiting for the drinks to come. You two stepped to the back to back of the bar, sliding in next to each other at the dark spot in the room. A place, where neither of you would be bothered. Holed up, until the bar closes, chatting about sweet nothing while you got to know each other. Maybe get, caught in the rain together, under his umbrella. Before turning in, to his apartment. 

It was, in fact, closer than your apartment.

[genvy]

hi sophie (smirk) u can pick a char from metal gear to do a playlist for me if u want to

OH MAN, FREEDOM...........uhhhhhh [solids your snake]

the boy with the thorn in his side - the smiths

the boy with the thorn in his side behind the hatred there lies a plundering desire for love how can they look into my eyes and, still, they don't believe me? how can they hear me say those words, still, they don't believe me? and if they don't believe me, now, will they ever believe me? and if they don't believe me, now, will they ever, they ever believe me? ... and when you want to live, how do you start? where do you go? who do you need to know?

combat rock - sleater-kinney

are you feeling alright now? paint myself all red, white and blue are you singing let's fight now? innocent people die, uh oh there are reasons to unite, is this why we unite? if you hate this time, remember we are the time! ... we'll come out with our fists raised the good old boys are back on top again and if we let them lead us blindly the past becomes the future once again

copy of a - nine inch nails

i'm just a shadow of a shadow of a shadow, always trying to catch up with myself i'm just an echo of an echo of an echo, listening to someone's cry for help look what you have just done why all the change of heart? you need to play your part a copy of a copy of a... now look what you've gone and done well, that doesn't sound like fun, see, i'm not the only one a copy of a copy of a...

army dreamers - kate bush

tears o'er a tin box, oh, jesus christ, he wasn't to know like a chicken with a fox, he couldn't win the war with ego give the kid the pick of pips and give him all your stripes and ribbons now he's sitting in his hole, he might as well have buttons and bows but he didn't have the money for a guitar (what could he do?) (should have been a politician) but he never had a proper education (what could he do?) (should have been a father) but he never even made it to his twenties what a waste!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

can you add "army dreamers" by kate bush to the johnlock playlist? gives me sadboi Jawn pre-SIP vibes

[Intro] B.F.P.O Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O Mammy's hero [Verse 1] Our little army boy Is coming home from B.F.P.O Wave a bunch of purple flowers To decorate a mammy's hero Mourning in the aerodrome The weather warmer, he is colder Four men in uniform To carry home my little soldier [Chorus] What could he do? Should have been a rock star But he didn't have the money for a guitar What could he do? Should have been a politician But he never had a proper education What could he do? Should have been a father But he never even made it to his twenties What a waste, army dreamers Oh, what a waste of army dreamers

[Verse 2] Tears o'er a tin box Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know Like a chicken with a fox He couldn't win the war with ego Give the kid the pick of pips And give him all your stripes and ribbons Now he's sitting in his hole He might as well have buttons and bows [Chorus] What could he do? Should have been a rock star But he didn't have the money for a guitar What could he do? Should have been a politician But he never had a proper education What could he do? Should have been a father But he never even made it to his twenties What a waste, army dreamers Oh, what a waste of army dreamers Oh, what a waste of all them army dreamers Army dreamers, army dreamers [Outro] B.F.P.O Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O No hard heros Mammy's hero B.F.P.O Army dreamers Mammy's hero B.F.P.O No hard heros

(Lyrics from Genius.com)

OOOOO!! NONNY wow yeah, totally pre-SiP John. BEAUTIFUL. I love this. Thank you so much for suggesting it! I love it!!! FEEEEELLLLLLLS.

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