This place is a circus for the insane..

I’m sat here with Brent Jackson and Andy Coupar.
The Firedog poetry in chief whose tongue they call the ‘Flawless blade’

and his long time musical collaborator called mainly ‘Coup’
Jacko is reading something over an earlier Firedogs jam…the overall effect being JCC and PIL mutating exile on main street…
Coup is layering in a guitar whine that’s almost certainly disturbing local pets equilibrium..
*mutters darkly*
“I got no shangri la to head for someday
Just notebook raving- nameless craving- and a sofa to crash on till Sunday.
The rebel rock curse in my bad blood runs black..
It pulled me from the factory farm and i’m never going back
I am the dirty road now you cannot folla
This is my fate now my slave holler
no more hollow competition that brainless game
This place is a circus for the insane..

*Howls like a dangerous lunatic making everyone jump*


6.26 AM.

The aforementioned machine fires up outside the game begins again.
Andy Coupar a musical assassin and outsider goes to bed.
The dawn chorus laughs.
The Firedogs are recording their opus and Rebel Rock lives.
Johnny Someone.