#silly #old #buggers

Below is a song inspired by the chaotic, brutal, and strangely heartfelt brawl between Agnes and Mabel, crafted in a style that’s a paradoxical blend of melancholy, trippy, soothing Indian guitar vibes with a hippy, expressive undertone. Think sitar-drenched psychedelia meets folk storytelling, with a nod to the absurd and the tender. The melody (imagined here) would feature a hypnotic sitar riff, gentle tabla rhythms, and a reverb-heavy acoustic guitar, creating a soundscape that’s both serene and unsettling, like a fever dream of peace over a violent core. The lyrics capture the raw emotion, humor, and tragedy of the scene, set to a vibe that’s inexplicably soothing despite the madness.

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**"Dentures in the Dust"**
*(A Trippy, Melancholy Indian Guitar Hippy Ballad)*
*Key: G minor, Tempo: Slow and hypnotic, ~80 BPM*
*Instrumentation: Sitar, tabla, acoustic guitar, soft tambura drone, faint harmonium swells*

*(Verse 1)*
In a house of lace and lavender dreams,
Two old souls stitched tight at the seams,
Agnes and Mabel, their memories gleam,
But the butter’s got crumbs, and the cracks start to scream.
Sitar weeps low, as the teacup flies,
Porcelain shatters, like stars in their eyes,
A candlestick swings, through the air it does hum,
While the ghosts of their youth watch the chaos become.

*(Chorus)*
Oh, dentures in the dust, under the couch they lie,
Broken bones and promises, beneath a pubey sky,
Sisters of the heart, tearing love apart,
In a trippy haze of rage, they dance with broken parts.

*(Verse 2)*
Mabel’s fist, it sails, slow as monsoon rain,
Catches Agnes’s ribs with a crack of old pain,
The afghan whips wild, like a flag in the storm,
Their friendship’s a relic, now tattered and torn.
Photo frames fall, Brighton ’67’s no more,
Glass in their hair, blood seeps on the floor,
The knitting needle stabs, a slow-motion thrust,
Their love’s a mirage, crumbling into dust.

*(Chorus)*
Oh, dentures in the dust, under the couch they lie,
Broken bones and promises, beneath a pubey sky,
Sisters of the heart, tearing love apart,
In a trippy haze of rage, they dance with broken parts.

*(Bridge)*
*(Sitar solo, soaring and mournful, with tabla pulsing like a heartbeat)*
In the hospital glow, where the drips swing and sway,
Hydration bags burst, saline rains down like spray,
They laugh through the pain, talk of boats in ’62,
But the fire in their eyes says this fight isn’t through.
Bedpans fly high, like birds in a trance,
The ward’s a mad stage for their terminal dance,
Old biddies, so frail, yet their spirits ignite,
In a paradox of peace, they keep up the fight.

*(Chorus)*
Oh, dentures in the dust, under the couch they lie,
Broken bones and promises, beneath a pubey sky,
Sisters of the heart, tearing love apart,
In a trippy haze of rage, they dance with broken parts.

*(Verse 3)*
The sitar hums soft, like a river of tears,
Their voices grow faint, drowned in sixty-odd years,
“Remember the dances?” Mabel whispers through pain,
Agnes nods, but her hands grab the walker again.
The ward’s a new wreck, pudding cups take flight,
Scalpels and gauze in the fluorescent light,
They’re restrained, sedated, but their hearts still burn,
For the love and the hate that they’ll never unlearn.

*(Outro)*
*(Slow tambura drone, sitar fading into silence)*
In the quiet of night, where the memories roam,
Two old biddies dream of their lavender home,
Dentures in the dust, where their secrets still hide,
In a trippy, sad waltz, they’re forever entwined.
Oh, Agnes and Mabel, your fight’s a strange song,
A hippy hymn of chaos, where love’s right and wrong.

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**Performance Notes**:
- The sitar carries the melody, weaving a hypnotic, raga-inspired line that feels both mournful and surreal, evoking the paradox of violence wrapped in nostalgia.
- The tabla keeps a slow, deliberate rhythm, like a heartbeat under stress, with occasional syncopated flourishes to mirror the erratic energy of the fight.
- The acoustic guitar strums softly, with open chords drenched in reverb, grounding the song in a folk-hippy vibe.
- Vocals should be breathy and emotive, almost whispered, with a slight quiver to reflect the age and fragility of the characters, yet laced with an eerie calm that contrasts the violent imagery.
- The song’s structure is loose, with extended instrumental breaks to let the trippy vibe sink in, making listeners feel like they’re floating through the chaos of the scene.

This song is meant to feel like a psychedelic elegy—strangely soothing, yet bizarrely fitting for the batshit brawl. It’s a sonic paradox, much like Agnes and Mabel’s love-hate bond, inviting listeners to sway to the absurdity while feeling the weight of broken memories.

Let me know if you’d like to tweak the style or add more details!