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Dirty At Something I Don't See Blues.mp
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Innocent man reporting blues.
artist blues guitar london graphic designer animator illustrator robert phillips robertemerald tichphillips woolich xbusker
Artist picture
Blues. Used to busk. Thankyou for looking March 2021. Love/art/blues/Rob. So, musical diary
Pardon? How can I interview me? Some streets are better than others? Some highways are brighter than others. Time of day, find a state of mind, imagination, TV, 1920s. I write about love, lost or found, hopefully honestly inspired by love, and try to play better for that. When younger protested about behaviours on my radar, and of course, being a simple artist, surfing the great times I imagine I had in another life, or maybe one day this one!
Song Info
Genre
Blues • Acoustic Blues
Author
Robert Ellery Phillips
Rights
Robert Ellery Phillips (robertemerald)
Uploaded
February 07, 2013
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.1 MB • 160 kbps • 4:29
Story behind the song
The Robot Is Dead Meat by 2978 AD Last night, which was another all night of none of their business, literally around the six thousand two hundredth night, they tried 'doing it' with their mouths shut. The big one was in tears after ten minutes, the little one cursed me to hell, after five minutes, and the woman lasted two before launching into "Oh my God", one of the best she's ever performed. True story. I listed the reasons for their attack on me, a man they do not actually know: I wouldn't bend. No reason in the first place. All of them are cowards, and they know I know it. Jealous. Action. Mine. They would love to lose the bully tag and be middle class. They figure I'm a convenient key to that. I'm not afraid of them. They never had anything, anything, to hit me with. Still don't. Cannot not say if I make them. A vendetta. Slanders me to anyone who'll listen. And as such, they love making a turkey shoot telepathic joke out of me to impress. They claim they are policemen. I don't believe them. How would I know? All I get are unsigned messages without faces, names or any clue at all. Fearless predators feel they have to tell on me? Got issues have they? Calling me the big bad man? Because that only works if they stick to me like glue? If, big if, they truly do work for some false predator daddy, please tell him he, or she, can take the images I feed these fakes and psychopaths, not to mention liars, back home to your kiddies. My pleasure. Crack a vendetta, and smile inwardly professing no one is. Stick to the party plan. Just don't mention any size. Any size at all. They need to be great guys to everyone else. I'm just a number, an insect, a sacrificial lamb to their alter of word hammer up themselves cool.
Lyrics
Thursday 07 02 13, 2.30 p.m. Spontaneous, after threats against me all day. Sent messages they'd be calling. Whoever they were didn't show of course. Seems that threatening me is the only behaviour they know. Only way to stay with me no doubt. I truly thank whoever is responsible for allowing me to publish this fact.
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