The Jam That Should Not Be
He’s Gone>Truckin’>The Other One>Me and Bobby McGee>Eyes isn’t supposed to happen: the songs don’t go in that order. If this sequence were a calf, it would have two heads and its heart halfway outside its asshole; the farmer would shoot it out of kindness, and fear.
It is a Set That Should Not Be, my friends. Do not repeat this set list aloud, or your hand will turn against you and try to kill you, forcing you to amputate the sucker with a chainsaw and then strap the chainsaw to your arm; also, you will say cool stuff and have great hair.
No one’s turning into Ash.
They might. That’s how good this show is. It is the jam version of the Necronomicon, and we are all porking our girlfriends in a remote cabin in the woods.
Cabin sex sounds nice.
Sure, until your girlfriend turns into a demon and eats your nipples.
That would kill the mood.
Yes. So the nice people should stay in urban settings and listen to 11/23/73 from the West Texas town of El Paso.