They seem to like the green ' round here They pass a lot of it around The color of the battlefields I can see it all around Ooh they call it fresh air They don't like the red 'round here They spill it all into the ground It cries out from the battlefields I can hear it all around Ooh they call it fresh air

He hoped the day would never come when he would be the king                                                                As the crown is placed upon his head his heart is breaking

  Gloria S. Holloway I always thoroughly enjoyed Rev Ralph.. even enjoyed the time that his gig didn't work out all that well. I went to see him somewhere in Ybor one time when there was a mix-up  & the venue had booked Ralph & somebody else too. Ralph's piano was in the  venue, but when he was informed that the other person was gonna play instead of him, he proceeded to dismantle his piano right in front of our eyes & haul it away. I'm  chuckling right now as I  recall that incident. ah.. Rev Ralph. I  miss him.

 I'm a thigh man. I like thighs hot, meaty and juicy. I could eat thighs all day everyday. I'm not that interested in breasts, legs or wings. When I visit Popeye's, KFC, or any restaurant that serves chicken, I only ever order thighs. I'm asked if I want spicy or mild, and I always opt for mild. I also always make sure that they understand that I must have a right thigh and a left thigh. I was at Popeye's the other day and I wanted to be sure that I received my order exactly to my specifications. The girl behind the counter appeared a bit confused by my order and went to consult with the manager. They spoke softly among themselves - I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they kept looking at me. I wasn't sure why. Then they started sifting through their stock. I was in a hurry. I had an important appointment, and I wanted to eat quickly and get to my destination. The line was growing behind me and I could sense the frustration of my fellow customers. I a...

  In the realm of the mind, where the consciousness expands, Timothy Leary, a guide with visionary hands. Through the corridors of perception, he led the way, A prophet of the mind, in the dawning of a new day. God bless Timothy Leary, mind explorer , In the labyrinth of thought, his spirit we find. Through the psychedelic journey, where boundaries blur, He paved the way for freedom, a cosmic explorer. Turn on, tune in, drop out, the mantra he spoke, In the tapestry of LSD, a psychedelic cloak. Through the highs and the lows of the mind's terrain, Timothy Leary, a beacon in the acid rain. In the quest for consciousness, he took the lead, A psychedelic scholar, planting a visionary seed. God bless Timothy Leary, in the mind's ascent, In the exploration of thought, he left a footprint. ...

  (Verse 1) On the edge of the blues, where the waters ran deep, There was a band that rocked, a promise to keep. Hot Tuna, sailed on the sonic tide, In the heart of the groove, where legends reside. (Chorus) Hot Tuna rocks, in the river's embrace, A sonic journey, a timeless space. Strings that echo, like a rolling stream, In the current of their music, we find our dream. (Verse 2) Jorma and Jack, a musical pair, With guitars in hand, and a soul laid bare. In the acoustic magic, where the notes take flight, Hot Tuna rocks, in the sweet moonlight. (Pre-Chorus) Through the Delta blues and the electric glow, They play the story, and let it flow. Hot Tuna rocks, in the midnight air, A cosmic voyage, beyond compare. (Chorus) Hot Tuna rocks, in the river's embrace, A sonic journey, a timeless space. Strings that echo, like a rolling stream, In the current of their music, we find our dream. (Bridge) In the jam sessions, where the solos entwine, Hot Tuna's rhythm, like aged wine. ...

  (Verse 1) In the realm of dreams, where music is the key, There's a voice that echoes, a soul wild and free. Gracie Slick, the enchantress of the night, In her melodies, the stars take flight. (Chorus) I love Gracie Slick, the queen of the stage, In her lyrics, we find a timeless page. With a voice that soars, like a bird in flight, In the magic of her song, the world feels right. (Verse 2) Through the rabbit hole of Jefferson's dream, She painted pictures, a psychedelic stream. White Rabbit leading us through wonderland, Gracie's voice, a guiding hand. (Pre-Chorus) In the echo of her laughter, a rebel's call, A sonic journey, breaking down the wall. I love Gracie Slick, the trailblazer's name, In the melody of rebellion, she played the game. (Chorus) I love Gracie Slick, the queen of the stage, In her lyrics, we find a timeless page. With a voice that soars, like a bird in flight, In the magic of her song, the world feels right. (Bridge) Through the highs and low...