<blockquote class="uncited"><div>"I think, most importantly for the demo, that we need to have a few songs of our own. From what I've seen, recording covers can cost more than it's worth. But I'm no songwriter. I hit the skins and grin, that's about it. Oh, and I can play the harp... long story... and the samisen... even longer story... but I don't think that's much help." The sphinx shrugged.</div></blockquote><br/>"Our own songs?" Chris laughed. "I can't write songs either. I always end up just cobbling lyrics off other artists."<br/>Chris listens to Ptricia and rolls his eyes. "Seriously. Tape recorder. Remind me someday. Yeah, Cast Iron Stomachs is a good catchy name. It'll work. And if you can get us some gigs that'd be great." He idly glances up at the ceiling. "Besides, I-.......Ptricia. What the hell is that?!"