Little voice
There’s a little voice singing inside my head. It’s a good voice even though it’s little because it’s the ghost of some good voices I heard on Saturday.
“Little shop… Little shop of horr-ors….Little shop…Little shop of horr-ors”
Musicals are a pain for that. They boost you up and make you jolly and everything’s good. But for days after they buzz around your ears and your brain and your footsteps.
“Little shop… Little shop of horr-ors….Little shop…Little shop of horr-ors”
That last one might sound weird but I’m sure I’m not the only one whose walking rythym is affected by the tune that’s playing in the head? This morning I walked along with a jaunty bounce. Most ridiculous for a Monday morning - I am expecting the white coated people to arrive any minute.
“Little shop… Little shop of horr-ors….Little shop…Little shop of horr-ors”
