(Untitled)

[nocturnemission]

[If you're passing by the shady side of the mess hall today, you are likely to hear a sitar being strummed and a song being composed.]

♪In a worn down farm where the zombies roam
is Camp Fuck You Die, our prison-home.
The corn's dried out and turning orange ♫
...Ummm.

Hey, does anybody know a word that rhymes with orange?

Comments

[nocturnemission]

Man, I'm not having much luck with this. maybe I'll have to pick a different color.

[nocturnemission]

I don't think I do...

[nocturnemission]

Yeah. I guess I could use "yellow", or "golden." It kinda messes up the rhythm, though.

[nocturnemission]

That could work... But then maybe some people would start thinking we actually had corn made of gold. That could cause a bit of an uproar!

[nocturnemission]

Maybe gold-hued? That sounds kinda poetic.

[nocturnemission]

I'll have to re-work the line a bit to fit it in... Maybe I'll just move on for now and come back to that part later.

[nocturnemission]

Yeah. Nothing worse than trying to ram headlong into writer's block!

[nocturnemission]

Not a whole lot. Instrumental work is more my thing.