One-two-three-faw

4:00 Pm. I grabbed the paper and sat to have a cup of tea. I burned my tongue and spit the liquid when I read the headline for Wednesday, November 9: “Marty Peccaluna DEAD in Car Crash”. I turned on the radio and the station was playing an old interview of his; “When I’m sixty-four I’ll be doing the garden and digging the weeds” said the poor bastard. How sad that he had to die at twenty-four and lose forty years. I didn’t know him personally, but had his poster on the wall. It was getting hard to breath and I decided to leave. On the streets everyone looked lonely, as if they had just lost a best friend, “Just look at them!” I thought. I decided to make a turn in Psych Street and bumped into a man wearing bright purple; “Excuse me while I kiss the sky” he told me. There was something very odd about him; the smoke of his cigarette was getting mixed with the color of his shirt, and it looked like as if he was in a purple haze. I continued walking and a guy with crazy curly hair holding a harmonica said he had seen what happened. He told me he knew the purple man and that he lived in the neighborhood: “No reason to get excited. I know the man. He smoked my eyelids an' punched my cigarette." I smiled back and as I was walking past him I overheard a conversation between two teens: “The teacher is teachin’ the golden rule. American history and practical math, we have to study hard and hope to pass. I’m workin’ my fingers right down to the bone, and that guy behind me won’t leave me alone.” said one of them to the other. It’s very easy to get lost when your journey has no destination. I must have made a wrong turn, and ended up in a dark street corner. There was a man in black telling of a hole in the sky. Women gasped as they walked past him. Across the street, in a store, I could hear the sound of piano playing. The piano man was quite a character, with his blond hair do. The owner of the store was about to kick him out when he set the instrument on fire. Oh, what a scene that was! I ran like hell, and when I stopped to catch my breath I realized I was in somewhere familiar. It was building 98 covered in graffiti, a little place I call home. “I have seen enough for a day” I thought. I went into the building, and up the stairs where I found Jeremy Hillary leaning on my door. He told me he had nowhere to go and asked if he could live with me. “You’re a real nowhere man!” I said “You’re lucky I’m such a sentimental. Come in!” I closed door number 9 behind me, sat on the chair and started telling all about my trip to my dearest friends Dr. Eggman and Mr. Walrus.


In this text there are references to The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Chuck Berry, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Jerry Lee Lewis, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. Can you identify all of them?