power to the sheep!

how many of life’s problems can be directly traced to a floyd deficiency? many. many many.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He makes me down to lie
Through pastures green He leadeth me the silent waters by.
With bright knives He releaseth my soul.
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places.
He converteth me to lamb cutlets,
For lo, He hath great power, and great hunger.
When cometh the day we lowly ones,
Through quiet reflection, and great dedication
Master the art of karate,
Lo, we shall rise up,
And then we’ll make the bugger’s eyes water.

Bleating and babbling I fell on his neck with a scream.
Wave upon wave of demented avengers
March cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.

* * *
i can still remember the first time i heard this album. high school sweetheart’s parents’ condo in union city. excellent bud. everyone else passes out and i’m sitting in front of the marantz quad stereo reading that whispered part (in italics above) stoned out of my little gourd and going like, whoa, but it was a very emphatic whoa, like the most mindblown whoa ever whoad. and then i sat and watched the little balance indicator, which was a tiny CRT with green squiggly lines going out to the four corners of the screen. that stereo would knock pictures off walls, dude. you could stand in the middle of the room and scream at the top of your lungs and not be able to hear yourself. at all. i have no idea why the neighbors didn’t call the cops, but they never did.

quarter of a century and the memory is still as clear and sweet as the day it was made. and still just as loud.