An arab dressed in tights.
As I stood on Baghdads balconies bathed in the light.
Talk about the Star Spangled Banner!
Watching the tracers fly high,
Stoned as a mother, I watched this town
Burnin'
Howlin'
Stoned.
There's a demon driving me on. His pointed horns poking my arse. I sit here on my Bagdad travelodge balcony typing like a madman as another car bomb goes off so close it can light up my cigar. The room service were now crouched in the cellar with their hands over their ears. After the first bombardment the howling began, it hasn't stopped since. But still my pecker throbs. Maybe it's the adrenaline, the fear, or perhaps the 8 year old boy licking my lollipop!
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