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goodbye, old friend
I unscrew the last bolt
which has held him in place
and with a heavy heart
I pull him out of his case
hook him up to the mixer
for old time's sake
but this time his echoes
sound heartless and fake
My band in a box
Is now going away
to a far away person
that I met through ebay
I know why he's mad
why he's sour and miffed
his new owner may make him
loop bad Slayer riffs
He's taught me so much
and he's brought me so far
but that road has run out
and now I'm selling the car
The response to my call,
the pillow when I fall
he's been everything and all
and now I'm sorry to say
That I needed the money
I wish I'd been sweeter
but I just sold my Jamman
and bought a Repeater
aaroneous
P.S. Before any of you accuse me of opportunism, please note that I sold
him
for the
exact amount I bought him for, if you count the memory expansion, and for
a
lot less
than I was offered. (Thanks, Todd!) I'm a still a little broken up about
it, but like to
think that he's going to a good home. Machines have souls, given to them
by
the
love and care of their inventor and the appreciation of their user. Think
about it next
time you bang your keyboard in frustration, or stomp angrily at your
cranky
LD-4 . . . I
need to get out more . . .