Coffee in Cottbus. Where the hell am I? Looks like Poland, circa 1977.
Sittin' here on a park bench at quarter-to-eight A.M., with my sunglasses on ... slept in the car. Went to the Glad House last night, spoke in my best english, hope we play there. Good room - like Pfefferberg in Berlin. Had a brew or two in the House, then found a midnight restaurant built right in the old Roman city wall, and had a mean gypsy scramble. That was the real McCoy!
And here I sit, waking up with my coffee and my shades. Now a grey strassenbahn toodles by, with the fantastic and shocking advertisement, "PIZZA-AMERIKA." Eeek! It should say, Warsaw Pizza or Minsk Express. Lots o' Trabi's and Wartburgs around here, by George! Now I bite into the driest chocolate-chip muffin the world ever saw. Tastes like Martha Washington's ass ... not that I would know.
Now it's 8:30 A.M., and why am I the only one wearing sunglasses? Haven't these people ever heard of ZZ-Top?
Oh, right - it's 1977 ... They won't see ZZ-Top for another 5 years.
Peace, -Todd