Sunshine, by the Bucket.

The place is the edge of Jackson Lake, in the shadow of the snow-capped Tetons. The time is dusk, early June. Pebbles crunch underfoot while tiny waves lap upon the shore. A young woman is inspired to burst into song:

I’ve got a bucket
Got a bucket full of sunshine
I’ve got a love
And I know that it’s all mine
Oh oh o-

The singer is interrupted with some new information. Not a bucket? A pocket, you say. How is that remotely interesting? The bucket was the best part of the song. Well I’m going to keep singing it my way. You know, I don’t care for your criticism.

Ok, now you’re just stifling my creativity. That’s just cold.

2 Comments on “Sunshine, by the Bucket.”

  1. are you indirectly telling me through a blog post that i stifled your creativity? because that’s what it sounds like to me!! or what i simply defending the creativity of the original artist? debate commence!


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