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THEFIONAS

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aretha/ crystal jukebox queen of hymn and him diffused in drunk trasfusion wound would heed weet soundwave crippled and cry salute to oh great particular ed dorado reel and ye battered personal god but she cannot she the leader of whom when ye fellow, she cannot she has no back she cannot...beneath black flowery railroad dans & fig leaf shades and dogs  of all nite joes, grow like arches and cures the harmonica battalions of bitter cowards, bones, and bygones while what seadier louder the moans and arms of funeral landlord with one passionate kiss rehearse from dusk and climbing into the bushes with some favorite enemy ripping the postage stamps and crazy mailmen and waving all rank and familiar ambition that that itself is needed to know that mother is not a lady...aretha with no goals, eternally single and one step soft of heaven -- let it be understood that she owns this melody along with he emotional diplomats and her earth and her musical secerets.




























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