I can feel your tiny body When I'm rooting through my bag There's too much craving going on And my metabolism's a drag
And it's making me so hungry To know that your mint will always burn I ain't never gonna stop blowing bubbles No, now, always yearn, always yearn
For Old gum --- even tho I'm grown Old gum, old gum Tastes like a stone
I can feel your sweetness Though I know it's not real Just an illusion Caused by Splenda and orange peel
And it makes me so hungry I love that your mint, it always burns When will I stop blowing bubbles Will I always yearn?
For Old gum Old gum -- [AWESOME guitar solo -- watch towards the end of it where he gets so into it he is humming to himself, totally lost in the music. At the end of the piece, your gum is probably dead, so spit it out and get a delicious fresh, bouncy piece]
Oh, this guy still does it for me, probably because he looks like a brown-haired Ned... that smile! Oh, be still, my heart.
As an infant, my daughter Nicole was very difficult to get to sleep. For a period of about eight months I held her against my chest and bounced gently while singing softly to the DVDs of the Eagles "Hell Freezes Over" and Eric Clapton Unplugged.
Thank you for making me remember that. I just got all misty thinking about it.
I'm sending you Eric's "One More Car, One More Rider." That will absolutely blow your proverbial socks off.
Old Gum
Don at 5:45 PM, December 17, 2007
