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 GHETTO QUA RAN HAS HIT THE FAN Stuck in a great groove and loving it sailing to Espana... OLE! September 6, 2002 The Iranian Papa Roach was singing "She Loves Me Not", when I tried to get rich chopping down the Oleander tree for 50 cents. Picasso was watching and he asked me to marry him. There was as tension in the air with my long standing beef with Walnut Creek and America in general. My toes were being stepped on doing inspirational songs for The Iranian.com against grand theft, drug HGH peddeling and gun-play. I was struggling with my spiritual side in America losing valuable prizes of war. Cody Chestnut the bona fide soul-rock genius sat on the stone steps next to his guitar in a leather case and wore a big dog felt hat. "Give me some religon/A brand-new Cadillac/ And a winning lotto ticket", he smiled in the Sonic Promiseland. I didn't want to die like Gaugin with complications of Syphilis in the Marquesas Islands. I had inherited his fondness for running away like a vagabond carring a sack on a stick. But instead of an Island in my bedroom, you know, I decided to go to Castello D'Empuries, Spain to be with Dali and his melted watches on a chain. The new contender for the angst ridden wailing crown-welcome. Sailing over the Atlantic, crossing back with C. Columbus back home where the Moslem Moors built all the castles. It was hilarious. And as important as C.C. discovering America in 1492 now 2002 with Shady Records, wearing Air Mission Extra by Nike. It would be beyond the Osbourines cursing leaving San Francisco, California behind with cat's paws on the window pane. Trading the early shift at Dunkin' Donuts for the Bullfight Ring and a siesta. Like seeing old friends again after an ugly pile of minesweeping bugs, mechanical birds, robat ants abducting children to Afghanistan. Learning from falling I made my dream come true at seventy two stuck in a great groove and loving it sailing to Espana... OLE!
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