High On Crack, Totin' A Machine Gun

Our site services people have gone totally apeshit crazy with stickers. You cant move for signs in our place these days, its ridiculous. I think they got a roll of 'Caution Hot Water' warnings free with every 'Now Wash Your Hands'. Actually though, its not particularly hot, and I thought they'd turned it recently down to save a few bob.

In a neat tie in to my lyric above but appropo of nothing re the signs, we've got a boy in the office i'm convinced is gonna 'go postal' one of these days. I've calculated that he'll spray bullets right to left so I'll have time to hit the deck if I'm lucky.



Sign Of The Times, Prince/Symbol, 1987