Last night, I played at Serda's, and did well. I did not intend to play, because I was in a cantankerous mood, and I know better than to play in that mood. I usually regret the ill will and negative energy which I exude.
My mood improved after sitting and listening to the rest; some of which had a lot more reason to feel embarrassed by their performances, than I ever could, even after delivering myself of my worst effort.
I went on last and improvised a song about homeless people who pretend to be my friends, but are only interested in my egg yolk every morning.
I don't eat the yolk, I squeeze it out, and then consume the white part.
There's a certain kind of folk, who'll only use you for your yolk... -The Yolk Song
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