This is a tribute to a friend of mine who writes songs and does everything real quick.
If you go out into the scene
you'll meet a man called D. Crombie.
It's inevitable see, 'cus his strange addiction
means he must play shows, or he lies there twitchin'.
He'll gig your house,
he'll gig your kitchen,
supporting cover bands who think they're bitchin'.
I'd say he's good, but he won't care if he sounds shite:
all that really matters is he plays again tonight.
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