Ozzy Osbourne has set up a concert/recording session in my parents' yard. There is a stage over by the treehouse, and equipment scattered all over the rest of the yard. A group of little kids, who will sing later on, run around and giggle. All is chaos. Ozzy Osbourne walks up and tells me that he wants me to sing a Slavic song right now. Then he walks away. I try to sing "Trugnal Mi Jane Sandanski" in my best chest voice, but—as in real life when someone suddenly asks me to sing something for them—my voice cracks and gets weak and scratchy. I try and try to be aggressive and robust, but it doesn't work.

RedFeather, by

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