8 января в Нью-Йорке наступит через 7 часов, но Европа уже вовсю празднует Bowiemas))
С Днем рождения, Дэвид! Пожалуйста, будь!
T'was The Night Before Bowiemas
T'was the night before Bowiemas, when all through the site,
Many records were playing (Yes, even Tonight).
Milk and peppers were set on the desktop with care,
In hopes that St. Stardust soon would be there.
The bloggers were lost in their dashboards with glee,
And all that was heard was the odd little "squee!"
And the Goblin King in tight pants, and Sarah in her dress
Had just danced a dream sequence staged to impress
When outside my bedroom there arose such a clatter,
I hit pause and looked up to see what was the matter.
Away to the doorway I ran to the call,
Threw open my door, and stared down the hall.
The lights were all off, no one else was awake,
"What the hell?!" I said, "It's 1 am, for God's sake".
When what, to my wondering ears should appear,
But a beautiful voice I was straining to hear.
With an accent I knew like the back of my hand,
I knew it was Bowie, that idol so grand.
I heard other voices the closer he came,
Then he laughed and he sang and he called them by name:
"Hey, Ziggy! Hey Jareth! Hey Julian and Tommy!
Oh Jacky! Oh Byron! Oh Nathan and Monte!
Cut through the kitchen and into the hall,
It's the room with the posters of me on the wall."
I ran to my keyboard , but stopped in my tracks,
"They'll all think I'm crazy, I've gotta relax."
So up to my front door they walked two by two,
With David in front as they all strolled right through.
And then I heard footsteps approaching the stairs,
And I knew in my heart that it had to be theirs.
As I took a deep breath so I wouldn't pass out,
Guess who strolled up then with an excited shout?
He was dressed in a suit, he looked dapper as fuck,
And I couldn't believe all my fangirly luck.
He had a guitar slung over his back
And he turned and he grinned at the rest of his pack.
His eyes, they were mismatched, but they were still merry
(You'd swear with one glance he was popping your cherry).
The smirk on his lips made me weak in the knees
And he played it up gladly, that smug little tease.
His hair was swept back, but it fell in his eyes,
As I tried my best to conceal my surprise.
I thought this was Heaven, I thought I was dead,
I shook like a leaf and my cheeks were bright red.
He was skinny and pale, like he always has been,
(Well, except for that tan when he led Tin Machine)
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head
Confirmed what I knew, I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but he sang me a song,
And smiled when he saw I was singing along
Then he signaled his egos, they all waved goodbye,
And I was so happy I wanted to cry.
Then I heard him exclaim as he walked out of sight,
"Happy birthday to me! And to all a good night!"
Сообщение отредактировал sub_marine: 22 Сентябрь 2013 - 07:15
