Votive candles lofting a sleek violet aroma

I got this email from somebody I didn't know today about some pajama party/left wing fundraiser this weekend. Amusing lyrical style though--somebody call 50 Cent!

NOTE: I cut some of this off, because they started fading bigtime at the end.

Saturday nite, the 18th of September
1816 Bush, 10 pm, a nite to remember,
Oh yeah! its the Pajama Jammy Jam,
droppin' phat lines like a poetry slam,
come one come all, by the moonlit air,
we'll chill on down without a care.

We encourage all to wear their finest sleep attire:
pajamas pants and tops and things hot from the dryer,
night gowns, silk robes and flannel hats,
lingerie and underwear is also acceptable.

Its a turquoise auditory soundscape,
turntables spinning its a great escape,
with donations to moveon.org and the democratic party
for each bare midriff, $5 to the higher love and hope,
The hope on high, of a bright new tomorrow,
the burning bush, an old timeless reminder,
of birds and bees, and the fields and trees,
and a thousand other wonderful things I see.

Of a day to come without pre-emptive war,
the politics of fear and the stigma of the Other,
without the watchful eye of our Big Bad Brother,
we can realize the true nature of our creed:
to get on down with the post-funk sound,
spun by our friend G.

Ho up all around,like the ole' mailman,
he's about to deliver,we'll navigate on through this mad-fast river,

Through the Garden State in a mid-20's blur,
like Natalie Portman, so innocent you were,
with votive candles lofting a sleek violet aroma,
we'll slip into a most beautiful light coma.

And as I dispense the knowledge I've won,
some might think back to summer '01,
when the Great Mothership landed in a blastof wondrous blazing lights,
just like Outkast,and the crowd danced through the late night,
unafraid of intoxication or police or danger,
just living ecstatically and violently free.