Blind Money Davis

Blind Money Davis

Going to Cleveland’s weird west side
to jam a novoice talking blues
in Apt One Studios
Peter Apartment keyboards
Ball One on mix
me word and growl
thru cancer cut voicebox
tell Peter I’ll use my faux blues voice
and he laughs
“It’s not fake, it’s you.”

I don’t know what he’s going to play
he doesn’t know what I’m going to say
(I don’t know what I’m going to say)
but we cut in one take
he adds bass and frills to thrill fill
I add mocking voices
he runs it thru mix mill
emails me home
where I post it
say so long go on to
next poem
next song
next toke
next lyric
next fart
next art.
But if you want today’s slow jam
go to ReverbNation.com/MutantSmith
and click Farm-a-sutra
it is what it is
whatever that am
(music mix recording Peter Ball
word voice me)

This is Blind Money Davis comin’ atcha,
seize ya on the downsize next crime.

— Smith, 1.28.2014

The following song is what it is, whatever that is . . . maybe a slow walking talking blues with extended glitches, recorded two hours ago. Click here to hear Farm-a-Sutra.

Here are the lyrics since my words compete with my mush mouth.

Farm-a-Sutra

Oh Little Girl Blue come blow my horn,
my sheep has left and I’m so forlorn.
Besides I’m allergic to its wool
and its baa-ing made me feel the fool.

Chicken’s nice but its feathers tickle,
the mice too small and way too fickle.
The geese bite and the pig’s too dirty,
though the cow’s cool, its eyes all flirty.

Girl blue deleted you
So guess no one will expedite you
Oh come expedite-delete my horn
Flock’s fled and I’m ex-delete forlorn

The horses don’t like horsing around,
and the moles won’t come from underground.
My best friend dog prefers neighbor’s cat
while the cat doesn’t know where it’s at.

The snakes are too fast and the frogs too wet,
the fish in the pond won’t answer yet.
I even tried it with soft warm mud
but broke my stick, bent my bud.

Girl blue expletive-deleted you
So guess no one will expedite you too
Oh come expletive-delete my horn
Flock’s fled and I’m ex-delete forlorn

The farmer’s daughter way down the lane
tried it once but she won’t do it again.
So Little Girl Blue it’s up to you,
otherwise I don’t know what to do.

– Smith 1.28.2014
– chorus by Peter Ball & Smith