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Tough Guys Really Sock It To Me Blues.mp3
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No one slanders like bully West Australians? I hope to God that isn't true. I'm fighting it. This is standard.
artist blues guitar london graphic designer animator illustrator robert phillips robertemerald tichphillips woolich xbusker
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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
December 27, 2012
Track Files
MP3
MP3 9.5 MB • 160 kbps • 8:16
Story behind the song
Standard fare, first of two, the previous. The Robot Is Dead Meat by 2978 AD. It may be relevant: The holding pattern really irritate my world's consciousness full blown lie blues. Clever men!! Good girls!! About a silly saying hate is love to get time for her big boy to destroy me before world discovers their sick, violent and insistent try to overpower and master my brain behaviour over the last decade. They are likely refusing to talk normally and hiding their blatant cowardice and none of their business by being continually up themselves one way or another. Like to wallow in self pity if their dump on me didn't work or hurt, or not the relief they wanted it to be? They'll want a reprieve, forgiveness and reward for their insane investment in an innocent man. They are never going to admit that but will continue to pretend I'm guilty. They'll hope it will eventually wash over people and get lost in suburban time. Maybe it will, but I won't forget it. They should be shipped to a desert in Sicily as I said, and I still mean it, for Christmas and my heart condition if nothing else. No one deserves them. Still trying to imply a relationship with me of some sort to cure their histories and emerge as middle class. Big ones still want to be the men in the relationship, on sound and innuendo and implication and my deduction alone, despite my suspicion spies don't work, read or contribute. Never shut them I hear, and they like to wallow in calling me vicious names as they art my skies, which they likely believe I should be honoured to have such freeloaders on my consciousness that I'm never going to know from Adam.
Lyrics
spontaneous 27 12 12 first of two, the last one 3 p.m. thank you for the listen
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