Blast you, Rick C...! *Shakes fist*

Hi Alex,

So, this whole letter - which is going pretty terrible - is Rick C's fault. Back when I was in the States, I had lunch with my friend Rick and....he gave me a shirt of his band. Rick's band is called the Red Hat Band. And it is good. The problem is...

There was some kind of magic in that shirt. Back when Rick gave me the shirt, it wasn't warm enough to wear it. Recently, things have been warmer, so I put it on. And got the urge to write song lyrics. Which would be good, if I was any good at it. But I'm not, so this letter is going to be terrible. And it's all Rick's fault. 😉 Here it goes...

A Lonely Day

Monday is always busy, being manic. When she isn't in the mood to panic. Wednesday got that girl from that horror family and abandoned me. Friday and Thursday are in love, so I can cross both off them off. 

Refrain: It's another lonely day, with nothing positive to play. Say, say, why does it have to be this way ! It's not fair, why doesn't anybody care !?

On Saturday, everybody gets the fever to dance. And I don't stand a chance. Sunday spends her time praising the Lord and I don't know David's secret cord.

(Refrain)

Everybody has abandoned me, poor Tuesday, and that's not okay. Plenty of other days get a song, but I've been ignored all along. I need a strong drink, or a visit to a shrink. 

(Starts talking to barkeep.) John, give the bottle ! What do you mean, you don't serve concepts here ? This is a bar, isn't it ? If you don't do the concept of drunk, you suck ! Aaaaaaahhh. (*Sounds of Tuesday bouncing down the steps as the bouncer throws him out, electronic garble, song ends.*)

For A Bad Day in the Studio

So I've got a good riff in my head, but no idea for what words go with that. This is where the first verse is supposed to go, but inspiration just says no. 

Refrain: Oeh, oeh, ah, ah, useless jive. If I don't get words, I won't get out alive.

This should be the second verse, but things are only getting worse. All the hands are working just fine, but lyrics won't show up in time.

(Refrain)

Our manager is slowly turning red. That means he's really, really steaming mad. And when he blows it will be reaaaaallly baaaaad. 

(Refrain)

There he blows like the Krakatoa. I'm really sorry for our tech guy, Noah.

(Refrain)

The cops are dragging him away. So much for making songs today.

Oeh, oeh, ah, ah, useless jive. If I don't get words, I won't get out alive. Oeh, oeh, ah, ah, useless jive. If I don't get words, I won't get out aaaaaaaallllliiiiiive. (End song) 

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That's all I have.

Regards,

Ruben A. Hilbers (aka Commander Nash)