Purrball and the Motörkitty awoke
under the stars, somewhere in a cornfield,
rough sleeping with fellow travelers made
riding in a tour bus never much fun,
but they made the best with broken eggshells
and cold coffee for breakfast everyday,
left to their own devices, the ladies
learned to cook scrambled eggs on a stovetop,
after many years on the road, Purrball
noticed that the life of a musician,
despite the notoriety of cool,
took its toll on the twin sisters, she spoke,
however, in hushed tones when her sibling
entered the Class A Diesel Horizon.
Motörkitty played bass like her hero
of legend, Ian Fraser Kilmister,
to metalheads around the world, Lemmy
of Motörhead, was simply known as God,
resulting in four decades of music,
kissed by countless adoring fans, his voice
imbued their sound with a rasp none could teach,
terrified as a child, Motörkitty
took to whiskey to develop her voice,
yet, she sounded more like Janis Joplin,
after that night in the cornfield, Purrball
went back to sleep in the Winnebago,
only she felt she needed a long rest,
killing time before time killed her, meant time,
endless in novel invention, must stop.
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