Check. Check. Test.
Mic check. Microphone. Checking.
Propeller caps collapse on my cats.
No, Bee Movie is not on BBC News nor Netflix.
Sibilance. Sibilance. Respect my scribblings. Sick lyricist.
Silent stormy rages riff on red Stratocasters.
One, two. One, two.
Sip the sweet dark espresso, barista is my journeyman day-job.
Poor man’s Pearl Jam, damn that critic from Beat street-press.
Electropop psychedelia is fine, far from played out.
Crappy customer service skills, stinky like crusty coffee cups.
Two, two. Three, three.
Please no butter, no gluten, glibly gloating, I’m a better person.
Chuck us some cash for beard balm, buddy.
Fee Fi Fo Fum. Fun. Fire. Feel like a failure in front of my family.
Check. Checking my privilege. Check. Choking on the success of the rest.
Bought a bitcoin blockchain, cryptocurrency currently crashing, crap crap crap.
Hospitality industry sadly steals my sanity.
Influenced by The Clash. Bowie’s Low. No cash-flow.
Doug digs jaw harp and djembe on his drums, no drummer he, now a percussionist professional.
All right, levels are good. Let's have a great show!
