Two of us wrote this long rambling verse, one summer evening in 2004, on the patio of the Highland Pub at SFU in Burnaby, BC. Our server's name that night was Ashley, and we got into a conversation with a middle-aged couple who spoke more Farsi than English. SFU's renowned pipe band was rehearsing somewhere within listening distance.

I've deliberately hidden which one of us wrote which lines, and I've kept idiosyncratic spellings exactly as we wrote them that summer's night.

Bobby Dylan, Groucho Marx
Just like angels playing harps
Saw them knocking on heaven's door
Got them writing for a few hours more
Hoped they'd write about my drunken years
Hoped they'd impart wisdom on my drunken ears
But then again, maybe I got smart
Traded K-mart in for fresh Walmart
Ashley, leaden, never got my part
Bagpipes fuck up my rhythm
Tried a bit but had to give in
Tried some more but lost my precision
Tried to shoot hoops like Tracy McGrady
Tried to impress the softball-playing lady
By serenading her like I was in Coquitlam
Then I ride up quick to get in there with 'em
Fhah - Frehem - Cohomah - Kachaweh
Neso - weesah - nosah - cha
Conoromah waham' Chahawa
(Toll booth near COQUITLAM)
Johnny Baptist started to writhe
He was hoping you'd grant him some tithe
He talked to Jesus, and he talked to Buddha
I'll never tell you which one was ruder
A little bit, some minor headaches
The sun is setting, so let it, let it
Nicotine and neoprene, form fitting
Form fitting
Forget it
Forget it
I did it, I lit it, I quit it, I'm rid of it
I'm Id. It fit. The gals that Al's brought to his salle
Were like a pal who brings you beer and sings of cheer
Never here always queer
With a little bit of "What says y'all"
Mostly bisexual
But with a couple of quid
No discount, just me and Id
No joke here, it's what I did
I couldn't care less if you're omnisexual
It only means you're gonna hit the bed well
And I might have found my amorous equal
So with me and her we're gonna write the sequel
So then now I'm running out of steam
The waterbed's breaking right down the seam
If it floods me up I'll strip some bark
Making like Noah
Fucking on a leaky arc
The arc is here to lead along this sphere
The rent's paid here, I've got no fear
But on this arc there was a pair of doves
Who found Mount Ararat while making love
And Turks and Egyptians saw those pidgeons
And got inspired to start a brand new religion
But then again, a religion of slaves
Says you fuck us, but us God saves
It's neat and easy, Swiffer nifty
Clean my floor
God save Nietsche
But Mr. Nietsche was scratchy and itchy
He washed my windshield with a squeegee
And then he died in nineteen hundred
In much the same way that Atilla the Hun did
Fuckin' Yoda, pour me a soda
My clothes are bleached, stiff and starchie
Archie didn't, but I learned Pharsi.