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Dave and Adams

Some really good deals to be had but I've noticed some have been that exact price (or lower) recently in their clearance section.

Comments

  • There is unrest in the Forrest. There is trouble with the trees. For the maples want more syrup. And the Oaks ignore their plea's.









    There is simply no other way to reply to that then posting Rush lyrics.
  • PMKAYPMKAY Posts: 1,372 ✭✭
    Please disperse. There is nothing to see here.
  • ICE9ICE9 Posts: 552 ✭✭✭
    But the oaks can't help their feelings, if they like the way they're made, and they wonder why the maples can't be happy in the shade...
    "Must these Englishmen Live That I Might Die? Must They Live That I Might Die?" - The Blue Oyster Cult
  • pclpadspclpads Posts: 457 ✭✭
    I'm a poet and don't know it.
    My feet show it.
    They're Longfellows.
  • ClockworkAngelClockworkAngel Posts: 1,994 ✭✭✭
    Believe in what we're told until our final breath while our loving watchmaker loves us all to death

    Music by Lee and Lifeson
    Lyrics by Peart
    The Clockwork Angel Collection...brought to you by Bank of America, Wells Fargo, and Chase
    TheClockworkAngelCollection
  • StoogeStooge Posts: 4,668 ✭✭✭✭✭
    Don't really care who wrote the lyrics, as this is one of my all time favorite Rush songs:

    "Red Barchetta"

    My uncle has a country place
    That no one knows about
    He says it used to be a farm
    Before the Motor Law
    And on Sundays I elude the eyes
    And hop the Turbine Freight
    To far outside the Wire
    Where my white-haired uncle waits

    Jump to the ground
    As the Turbo slows to cross the borderline
    Run like the wind
    As excitement shivers up and down my spine
    Down in his barn
    My uncle preserved for me an old machine
    For fifty odd years
    To keep it as new has been his dearest dream

    I strip away the old debris
    That hides a shining car
    A brilliant red Barchetta
    From a better vanished time
    I fire up the willing engine
    Responding with a roar
    Tires spitting gravel
    I commit my weekly crime

    Wind
    In my hair
    Shifting and drifting
    Mechanical music
    Adrenaline surge...

    Well-weathered leather
    Hot metal and oil
    The scented country air
    Sunlight on chrome
    The blur of the landscape
    Every nerve aware

    Suddenly ahead of me
    Across the mountainside
    A gleaming alloy air car
    Shoots towards me, two lanes wide
    I spin around with shrieking tires
    To run the deadly race
    Go screaming through the valley
    As another joins the chase

    Drive like the wind
    Straining the limits of machine and man
    Laughing out loud with fear and hope
    I've got a desperate plan
    At the one-lane bridge
    I leave the giants stranded at the riverside
    Race back to the farm
    To dream with my uncle at the fireside

    Later, Paul.
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