Don’t It

Every picture tells a story and since creativity is better than copying Diogenes the Greek Cynic philosopher of Sinope said that one original thought is worth a thousand mindless quotes.  A picture is worth a thousand words is a way of saying that it is often easier to show something in a picture than it is to describe it with words, however there is a fundamental difference between looking at a picture and reading something.  Our visual system evolved to process images essentially in parallel, whereas when related to text, which only appeared a few thousand years ago, reading requires our visual system to scan individual characters, one at a time, recognize them, and piece them together into words, and then into sentences.

Since a pixel typically consists of 8 bits or one byte it is worth 1024 bits, thus its value can be anything between 0 to 255, therefore a picture with a lot of pixels could be worth thousands of bits.  A single ASCII character is 1 byte. So if you have a plain text file, the size of your file is equivalent to the number of characters, including spaces, line-breaks, tabs, and other “invisible” characters that are in your file.  In a plain text file, this is easy to add up as there is nothing going on behind the scenes to inflate your document, so you always have a pretty good idea of how large it is.  When you start considering a file produced by a word processor like Microsoft Word, all that goes out the window, because of the variations in paper size, font, line-spacing, and whether the text is dialogue-containing prose, poetry, text-heavy non-fiction, and even whether one or more characters happens to play a heavy roll in your writing.  There is no easy formula, but in general the longer and the more complicated the formatting of the text is, the larger it will be in bytes.

Does this mean that one Monet painting would be worth 1,000 Shakespeare plays, and if millions of virtual monkeys have already typed out the entire works of Shakespeare by bashing random keys on simulated typewriters, wouldn’t they be able to do the same thing and create a Monet?  The experiment is an imperfect reproduction of the infinite monkey theorem, because it saves correct sections of text while discarding wrong guesses.  According to Napoleon Bonaparte, a good sketch is better than a long speech.  A long speech might put you to sleep, where as sketching can help you to recall many things.

Teresa the Haunted Wordsmith posted a new Worth A Thousand Words #2 writing challenge that is associated with the above picture.  The first thing that I thought of was Dorothy being stuck in Oz and the wicked witch saying, “Now they will sleep, poppies will put them to sleep.”  The power of the poppy is well known and when there are many of these flowers together their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes them will fall fast asleep, and if the sleeping person is not carried away from the scent of the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever.  Hamlet says, “To be or not to be” not being sure if it would be better for him to live or die.  Hamlet cannot decide if it is better to give up and die rather than facing his troubles, but he is frightened that he will dream when he is dead and never get any peace from his earthly troubles.  To sleep – perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come.

Of course this field is not filled with poppies and you would be more likely to get stung by a bee if you ran through this field, than be put in a drug induced sleep.  For the last several years scientists have fretted over the future of bees, and although research has shed much light on the crisis, those in the bee business, from hive keepers to commercial farmers, all say the insects remain in deep trouble as their colonies continue to struggle because the use of pesticides is wiping them out.  Bees are so much more than a bunch of pesky stinging insects as they are great pollinators.  About 30% of everything that we eat requires insect pollination, and the vast majority of it is done by honey bees.  The Apis Mellifera, better known as the Western honeybee, should be thanked for 1 out of every 3 mouthfuls of food that you eat every day.  Queens are not laying as many eggs as they did just a few years ago, however honey bees aren’t going to disappear from the face of the Earth in the near future.

Around 2006, commercial beekeepers began noticing something disturbing, that their honeybees were disappearing. Beekeepers would open their hives and find them full of honeycomb, wax, even honey, but they were devoid of actual bees. As reports from worried beekeepers rolled in, scientists coined an appropriately apocalyptic term for the mystery malady, being colony-collapse disorder (CCD).  Besides pesticides, a big problem that bees face is the Varroa destructor, a parasitic mite that attaches to the bees and sucks out their equivalent of blood.  Varroa doesn’t kill bees outright, but it weakens them to the point that viruses, diseases and other pests are able to finish off the colony.  Another problem is honey bee nutrition, as farmers nowadays are planting fence row-to-fence row, so there are more commercial crops that don’t produce the pollen and nectar the bees need and fewer wild flowers that do.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.  Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.  The bee, of course, flies anyway, because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible.  Bees rarely fly in a straight line.  They hover and zigzag, with a purpose known only to the collective brain of the hive.

1,004 words

Written for Teresa the Haunted Wordsmith Worth A Thousand Words #2 writing challenge.

Looking For Hope

Sometimes I think that T. S. Eliot was right with his description of “The Waste Land”, or is it ambiguous to think that we may have possibly reverted back to a time like that after the Tower of Babel collapsed, as there is no good news for people that want to find hope.  We will never be able to perfectly comprehend the obscure allusions of a culture that seems to be decaying and withering away before our eyes.  Can we overcome the seemingly impossible struggle between man and our greatest enemy, the gradual decline that represents the universal entropic (having a tendency to change from a state of order to a state of disorder) forcing doom upon all of us?  Percival was raised in a remote dark forest culture that disregarded what it meant to be a man and he would have remained an innocent fool if he did not ask the Fisher King, “What is the secret of the Grail?  Whom does it serve?”

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.  Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding a little life with dried tubers.  There is no joy in Mudville even though the sun is shining bright, a band is playing somewhere enticing hearts with delight, and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout that spring has arrived, because it is bringing flowers and mild weather and sex and love should be in the air.  April is the cruelest month because the numbness is gone and feeling has returned adding color, and although Jupiter granted Eos her wish that her lover Tithonus could become immortal, this did not solve the their problem, as Jupiter did not grant him eternal youth and longevity and being without eternal youth is what lead Sibyl the Greek prophetess to shrivel up like an old prune and say in extempore, “I want to die.”

Tiresias is now an old man with wrinkled female breasts, as he witnesses a loveless encounter between the exhausted typist and her lover, a lowly clerk in a real estate office.  He can see the typist home at teatime, as she waits for her expected guest. The meal has ended, she is bored and tired, but the young man is flushed and decided, he assaults her at once, enjoying his hasty encounter with the tired and unresponsive women and bestows one final patronizing kiss.  She glances into the mirror and thinks, “I’m glad it’s over”, as he gropes his way out, finding the stairs unlit.  This is a real humdinger, as Tiresias is the man who lived as a woman, and then became a man again.  This happened when he came across these mating snakes and he struck and wounded them causing him to transform into a woman, but seven years later Tiresias sees the same snakes coupling and this changed him back into a man again.  Juno and Jupiter had a disagreement about which sex experienced more pleasure when making love, so they logically consulted Tiresias on this issue, and he asserted that women had greater pleasure than men, and Juno struck him blind because she did not like his answer.  Jupiter thanked him for his support, and gave him the gifts of prophecy and longevity.  Lazy people are to blame for the failure of sex in a relationship, transforming sex into a purely physical kind of entertainment and thus it has it lost its moral and social purpose by becoming a matter of mechanical routine.

The famous clairvoyant Madame Sosostris might actually have been a fraud, as she has no clue how to avoid getting a cold, so why would anyone think that she can predict the future.  Phlebas the Phoenician died apparently by drowning and in death he has forgotten his worldly cares while the creatures of the sea pick his body apart.  Life holds no great significance as death and decay triumphs over the dead sailor at the bottom of the ocean.  Phlebas’ death is necessary before rebirth can index to the next step in the process.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt – Remote, for FOWC with Fandango – Ambiguous, for July Writing Prompts – A real humdinger, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Lazy, for Ragtag Community – Extempore, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Index and for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Enticing.

Caught Red Handed

This expression is not associated with a positive experience, as it is similar to being caught with your hand in the cookie jar (caught doing something wrong) and/or being caught with your pants down (seen in a vulnerable often embarrassing situation).  This saying is said to come from Scotland around the 15th century and being caught red-handed probably referred to people who got caught with blood on their hands from murder or poaching.  Impoverished citizens who were desperately hungry would poach livestock from others in their community and they were easily caught when the owner of the land saw their bloodied hands.  The first use of this phrase dates back to the Scottish Acts of Parliament of James I, 1432.

Red-hand also appears in this piece from Sir George Mackenzie’s A discourse upon the laws and customs of Scotland in matters criminal, 1674, “If he be not taken red-hand the sheriff cannot proceed against him.”  The earliest known printed version of ‘red-handed’ comes from Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe, 1819, “I did but tie one fellow, who was taken redhanded and in the fact, to the horns of a wild stag.”  “Caught red-handed” is one of those few phrases with a definition that is essentially the same today as it was hundreds of years ago, however the contemporary definition no longer applies only to crime. Today, someone may use this idiom when he or she has witnessed someone doing something wrong or immoral.

Some politicians often lie even when they were caught red-handed.  Richard Nixon aka Tricky Dick said he was not a crook, Ronald Reagan aka Teflon president said he wasn’t aware of the Iran-Contra deal and Bill Clinton aka Slick Willie said he did not have sex with that woman.  Lying is an inherent part of being a politician and you can always tell when a politician is lying as you will see their lips moving.  Trump has made a habit out of stretching the truth, confusing facts, missing the point, saying things with no evidence to back up his claims, and plane outright lying.  Donald Trump actually said that it’s okay for him to lie since “people agree with me.”  Trump seems to have failed with North Korean leader Kim Jong Un, he let Putin walk all over him in Helsinki and he always falls back on the same tactics every time he gets outmaneuvered, which is to double down and change the subject to blaming Hilary Clinton, Barack Obama and the Democrats.  Another thing that Trump does to worm his way out when he is caught red handed is to backtrack.

Written for Linda G. Hill Life in progress One-Liner Wednesday – July 18 prompt.

Born Mountain Climber

Bobby’s father was one of the elite climbers that was able to complete the Seven Summits mountaineering challenge, which involves climbing to the summit all of all the highest mountains on of each of the seven continents.  In Asia this involved climbing Mount Everest in the Himalayas, in South America he climbed Aconcagua in the Andes, in North America Denali also known as Mount McKinley in the Alaska range, in Africa Mount Kilimanjaro in the Eastern Rift mountains, in Europe he climbed both Elbrus in the Caucasus Mountain range and Mont Blanc in the Alps, on the continent of Australia and in Oceania Puncak Jaya in the Sudirman Range and Australia’s highest mountain Mount Kosciuszko in the Australian Alps, in Antarctica Vinson within the Sentinel Range of the Ellsworth Mountains.  Bobby felt that he was destined to become a respected climber as all he ever thought about was climbing mountains and in his dreams he was taking on the majestic mountains of the world, as this became his life’s passion.

Bobby grew up in the mountains and living at a high elevation gave him an advantage over many other climbers, as he had the capability to climb some of the most difficult and dangerous mountains without using the supplementary oxygen bottles that most of the other climbers required.  Bobby had this amazing ability to acclimatize, adapting quickly to a new temperature, altitude and environment which gave him an edge.  Also his family had money, so he was able to obtain the best climbing gear and he had the funding to take part in numerous expeditions which are expensive.

Bobby was a wanderer and he could not sit still for very long and he felt naked when he was not carrying his pack or wearing his mountain-climber ice crampons lashed to his ski boots.  When Bobby was at home he would often spend time in his back yard enjoying himself looking over the mountains while sitting on his swing.  Bobby acted like a silly 8 year old boy when he was on his swing, dreaming of being immortal, but knowing that he must stay in the present because if he ever did become a famous mountain climber, that he would need to deal with any complication that arose.  The clouds were his friends and he really wanted to be swinging on a star, or travel to the moon and bring moonbeams back to his home in a jar.  He certainly did not want to be a mule and have long funny ears.  He thought that mules lacked potential, because of their small brains, but since mules didn’t have to go school, he figured that it wouldn’t be all that bad being a mule.

Bobby jumped off the swing and skinned his knee, but he was a tough kid and he was not known to complain much.  Bobby often got hungry after he was done swinging and he loved to eat pastel, a Brazilian dish that his mother made, which consisted of thin pastry envelopes wrapped around assorted fillings, then deep fried in vegetable oil, because it was so flakey and filling.  After his snack, his dad was going to take him for a ride in his jeep so he could show Bobby his climbing innovation that would make anyone look like Peter Parker.  Bobby looked at his calendar every day and he knew that next month he would make his first real climb.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt – Innovation, for FOWC with Fandango – Present, for July Writing Prompts – Flakey and filling, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Immortal, for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #222, for Ragtag Community – Clouds, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Complication, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge prompt – calendar knee jeep and for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Potential.

Denied a Proper Burial

The deceased preta kept wandering as he was a disturbed ghost who could not find rest, his spirit was destined to roam on dark and stormy nights, because others thought he was not fit to be buried.  The soul of this dead being shows gratitude to the person who as an act of charity, arranged for the burial of his dishonored corpse.  His soul could now return to the creator, and he would no longer have to stand on the edge of eternal darkness.  His grateful chant would fill the void in order that others may know that in the land of the night, the ship of the sun is drawn by the grateful dead.

The ancient Greek Cynic philosopher Diogenes of Sinope an Ionian colony on the Black Sea was extreme in a lot of ways, as he lived a very poor and ascetic life, and his residence consisted of a tub and his only possession was a wooden bowl that he used to drink water from.  He felt that people should not be embarrassed to do private things in public, and he was often seen defecating and masturbating in the open where others could watch.  Diogenes told his friends that when he died, he didn’t want to be buried.  He wanted his body thrown over the city wall, where it could be devoured by animals.  My grandmother has similar feelings about funerals and burials, as she thought they were too expensive and she always said that when she died, that all she wanted was for her body to be wrapped up in a burlap bag and then kicked down the sewer.

A dead body is nothing more than an empty container, it doesn’t need to be embalmed, or dressed up in fancy clothes, or be put on some mournful display, or have its remnants placed in an urn up on the mantle.  Caring for the dead is part of being human, as we learned that rotting bodies have a bad odor when they are decomposing thus making them unsanitary, so we put them underground.  Humans have decided that lives matter, and they should be remembered and holding a funeral is a way to help a dead person to pass into the next world.  The deceased are buried out of a need to keep them protected from any interference of scavengers or animals who might desire to eat our loved ones.  An old custom involved placing pennies of the eyes of a dead person to be used as the payment to Charon, the ferryman of the underworld, to ferry the deceased across the River Styx, to their destination in the underworld.

History is full of riches-to-rags stories about fallen stars and tragic historical figures who died dead broke or very close to it. Boxer Joe Louis made a staggering amount of money during his reign as one of the country’s top pugilists in the ‘30s and ‘40s, but money always passed through his fingers too quickly.  His third wife, Martha, was left broke when Joe died, she could no longer walk, and she couldn’t afford a wheelchair of her own.  She needed false teeth and new glasses, but there was no money for any of those things.  Joe Lewis was known for saying, “Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die”, and he also said, “I don’t like money actually, but it quiets my nerves.”

Life is full of ups and downs and everything doesn’t always go according to plan, as you might soar above others and think that you are sitting on top of the world up in an ivy tower and then the next minute you are completely impoverished lacking any resource or the means of subsistence, which is what happened to a man named Dicrotendipes Thanatogratus. He was a noticeably friendly guy who owned the Drunken Whale Tavern.  It was located in a meadow near the woods on the spot where a tidal wave washed up a shark.  A marsh was created from this tidal wave that swept over the shore and Dicrotendipes used this place behind his tavern to dump all of his garbage.

Suddenly everything started going wrong in his life, his wife got sick and the town sawbones was not able to heal her, so she died.  He had to sell his business so he could be around to raise his children.  He felt like he had lost his place in society, as all of his former friends had deserted him.  He became the caterpillar who envied the bird, because it was able to fly away, where he was destined to spend the rest of his life in the cellar and wither away.  He started to borrow money from anyone who would loan it to him even though he knew that he had no way of paying them back.  When his debts came due, he acted forgetful, it was like he had a convenient memory that allowed him to overlook any obligation to pay his creditors back.  Things even got worse because of the antics of an arsonist and his house was burned down. He began to cry when his children were taken away from him to pay off some of his debt.  Dicrotendipes died and the whole town refused to bury him because of his debts so his body was left in a pile of horse dung.

Destiny Lands walked into town with his horse Charmer beside him and he decided to amble over to the stable so the blacksmith could have a look at his horse and this is when he discovered Dicrotendipes corpse rotting awayDestiny inquired why the man was not given a proper burial and he was told that when he met his demise, that he owed half the people in town money and that his body lay unburied as a lesson to all swindlers that being a deadbeat in this town would not be tolerated.  Destiny started pondering the situation and he made a moral decision that the transformative effect on fate of this man after his death was cruel and that he was now a lost soul who would never be shown the way to heaven. Destiny was moved by this sad story and he made his mark paying off all of this man’s debt by giving up his last penny, so he was able to ransom the corpse and give it suitable burial.  The restless soul was removed from the pile of horse dung and laid to rest and then Destiny continued on his way.

As Destiny was leaving town, he found himself in peril when motor crumbled off this wall next to the marsh and injured his horse.  He dismounted his horse and started to crouch down to get a better look at how bad Charmer was injured, and he saw blood gushing from Charmer’s leg.  There he meets a strange man wearing latex gloves who is able to cauterize the wound and heal his horse.  Destiny felt so grateful that this stranger helped his horse and he was glad that it was not any worse, as he knew that fractures in a horse can be devastating, especially since their legs are so breakable.  The strange man welcomed Destiny with open arms and then disclosed that he is the ghost of the man whose corpse Destiny had befriended and he said that he was the one who was in debt for being allowed to get a proper burial.  He told Destiny about a story that he heard when he owned the tavern.  This man who he took as a drunk told him that money was buried in the land where the marsh was created from the tidal wave.  Now that Dicrotendipes was dead, he was able to see exactly where this money was buried, so he told Destiny the location of where he should dig and he said that there was probably enough money for him to buy a castle.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt – Convenient, for FOWC with Fandango – Memory, for July Writing Prompts – Antics of an arsonist, for Laura M. Bailey All The Shoes I Wear Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt – Castle, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Noticeably, for Ragtag Community – Open, for RayNotBradbury Cool Writing Prompt – Famous couples from the past challenge, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Friendly, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #150 (5) word prompt – Ghost Mark Woods Soar Meadow, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge prompt – tower tidal wave shark, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Amble and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle 204 – Breakable Sawbones Marsh Cry Wither Mortar Crouch Latex Gloves Preta Cellar Mournful Cauterize.

Standing Up To Putin

I don’t have high hopes that Trump will say anything derogatory to scorn his Russian friend at the upcoming summit meeting.  That little old ant thought that he could move that rubber tree plant, while that silly old ram kept butting that dam, but Trump is just a toy balloon and I am hoping that he will burst soon, as he is being complicit in the exploitation of the Russian people by indulging Putin and chances are they’re bound to go pop.  Many people feel that Trump should abandon the talks altogether after the 12 indictments that special counsel Robert S. Mueller has handed down to members of the Russian military intelligence branch on charges of hacking American computers.  Woebegone as Trump is not focused on protecting elections and he will try to avoid a kerfuffle at any cost.  Normally I would cheer for any chance that leaders could get together and sit down to hash out their problems, but I don’t see any reform coming out of these meetings, if Trump is not willing to call out Putin for interfering with the American government.

According to legend, King Solomon had this ring which was given to him by God, and it allowed him control demons, but I don’t think that Trump has a ring like this to control the demon Vladimir Putin.  Ownership of all major Russian enterprises is now tight in the grip of Putin and his cronies, who rather than investing in their nation’s development, stash their money outside the country (some of it in Trump-branded luxury condominiums).  This is a new form of low, as all the wealth of all the Russians apart from the Putin mafia barely equals the amount that Russia’s leaders have spirited out of the country.  The Russian people have a long climb ahead of them as long as Putin is their ruler.  Trump said that does not expect to have a Perry Mason moment when he meets with Putin, but if Trump would only call out Putin for all of the lies that he has spread, the Russians citizens might begin to wake up, look around and notice the pattern that is leading them down a path to destruction.

It seems so simple to me, but it is not because the Russian government has spent years getting control of the media and now reporters are picked by the Kremlin, as Putin has forced all the major TV channels to submit to his will.  This is the real fake news and any story that is thought to be unreasonable would not be published, or it might have to go through some type of trim to take the edge off of it.  It does not take a firefighter to know that Moscow is tired of being manipulated by the Kremlin’s non news items that does nothing to uncover the unethical behavior and social injustice that is taking place in Russia today.  My great aunt told me that when she ran out of toilet paper while living in Russia, that she would wipe her ass with pictures of Putin from the newspapers, because she thought he deserved that.

The Kremlin keeps trying to promote the pop-culture fame that their leader has achieved, and this is done by publishing a shirtless image of Putin strolling along the gravel banks of a Siberian river in army boots and camouflage pants, wearing a cross around his neck.  In March of this year, a group of Russian activists spent the night in jail after they spray painted a giant slogan against President Vladimir Putin on the frozen surface of a major river in the center of his hometown.  During the World Cup this year, Russians on social media were tying themselves up in knots trying to guess why Vladimir Putin was a no show at the event.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt – Abandon, for FOWC with Fandango – Legend, for July Writing Prompts – Chances are, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Scorn, for Ragtag Community – Kerfuffle, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Firefighter, for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt “Reform”, for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 358 prompts – climb simple low tight trim gravel pattern path spread spray knots edge, for Swimmers the New Community Pool prompt – demon, for Teresa’s Haunted Wordsmith Three Things Challenge prompts – great aunt, ant, plant and for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Woebegone.

Break Out in Tears

‘Dear Mr. Fantasy’ is a song by the rock group Traffic that featured Steve Winwood on guitar and lead vocal, Dave Mason on bass guitar, harmonica, backing vocal, Chris Wood on organ, backing vocal, Jim Capaldi on drums, backing vocal and Jimmy Miller on maracas.  It comes from their 1967 album titled Mr. Fantasy.  One evening, Capaldi was sketching out ideas for an album cover that had a Statue of Liberty-like figure which eventually became Mr. Fantasy and he composed a short poem next to it, but he lost interest and went to bed.  Capaldi was doodling in the battered old notebook that he kept for potential song lyrics and ideas when he drew this cartoon character with a spiky hat that was playing a guitar, but not using his hands.  He was operating a pair of hands on the end of puppet strings that were playing the guitar and next to him.  Capaldi scribbled, “Dear Mr. Fantasy, play us a tune, something to make us all happy”, as if it was a letter to his new character.  Capaldi retired to bed, thinking that what he wrote was nice, but that it was never intended to be a song.  When he woke later, he heard Winwood and Wood playing in the music room, so he went downstairs and he discovered that they had found his drawing and stayed up all night and put a melody to his letter.

This fictional character named Mr. Fantasy plays music and sings or possibly does anything just to make everyone else feel better.  There is a problem when you are constantly entertaining other people, as they tend to want you to do it all the time, even when you get sad or when you break out in tears starting to cry, they still want to be entertained, because you have become their only escape from reality.  His so-called friends don’t really care much about him, as they tell him to make it snappy.  Mr. Fantasy keeps pleasing others although he is not deriving any pleasure for himself, so he doesn’t have his mind straight, as he is not happy with his life, although other people still like him because he can make them feel better.  This song is about a life that hasn’t been perfect, but Mr. Fantasy won’t change it because it got him to where he is now and he enjoys having all of the friends that he made along the way.  Steve Winwood was just shy of 19 when he formed the group Traffic in the spring of 1967, but he was already a veteran performer fronting the pop/R&B-flavored Spencer Davis Group by the age of 15.

Dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune
Something to make us all happy
Do anything, take us out of this gloom
Sing a song, play guitar, make it snappy

You are the one who can make us all laugh
But doing that you break out in tears
Please don’t be sad if it was a straight mind you had
We wouldn’t have known you all these years

Dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune
Something to make us all happy
Do anything, take us out of this gloom
Sing a song, play guitar, make it snappy, yeah yeah

Dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune
Something to make us all happy
Do anything,…

Dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune
Something to make us all happy
Do anything, take us out of this gloom
Sing a song, play guitar, make it snappy

You are the one who can make us all laugh
But doing that you break out in tears
Please don’t be sad if it was a straight mind you had
We wouldn’t have known you all these years

Written for 7/15/18 Helen Vahdati’s This Thing Called Life One Word at a Time Song Lyric Sunday Theme where the prompt is “break”.