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They have returned to play at the Old Farm, which we all frequent even as time goes by.
They are the usual lumberjacks with many white hairs in their beards and lots of grandkids scattered across the lo-fi world.
They play in our Old Farm. Lupo Alberto pogos drunk with Moses and that little hen looks at them disgusted.
Old little hen, time passes, for some less so. The old Albert used to say it too.
Our guys follow their path, between Neil Young and Liò. A melodic short circuit that rises slowly like love for your best friend's mother.
A sort of Electric Light Orchestra for the grandkids of the '90s who have a nice full shelf of records from young parents who smoke joints.
The Dog wants to go out to poop, so I'll conclude, if you're playing the 90 continue
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