a-658942-1214426043-jpeg

So it has come to this.

A mindless voice with mindless tune singing softly in the dark.

My friend, I promise you that on such a night even the sages are locked babbling in their rooms.

You think me mad?

“Well, my boyze.”  (I talk in my best W.C. Fields voice).

“Well, my boyze. I had a hen who could lay a Golden Calf.

“And this weird guy – Moses was his name – yass, this Mozaz threw these stone tablets – threw, I say – these stone tablets on my hen, and killed her.

“Feathers everywhere.

“And I asked him – I said to him –  Mozaz, why did you flatten my hen and make the feathers fly?

“And he said to me  (can you believe this) – he said to me: `W. C., I was damn hungry.’

“And then I knew,

“My little chickadee,

“My little bottom-soft dumpling,

“I knew from that moment,

“The man was not sincere.”

DE

(image) https: //img.discogs.com/An_gvWRJbQxRnY9CrHYZcy741uM=/fit-in/300×300/filters:strip_icc():format(jpeg):mode_rgb():quality(40)/discogs-images/A-658942-1214426043.jpeg.jpg