| dewy decimal |
2003-08-01 - 3:05 a.m.
Attention to detail, drunk and stoned. The flattery of an elder's interest. And on the drive home, green lights saying "go," suspended over dying grass enveloped in a dying night. Past the trains of mock-orange-hedge that slipslidesmaller into the history of another drunken, violent night. behind right now. behind the gold. To look into a city of lights and to be thoughtful and free...well somehow that just seems to be enough, to find yourself in another week in this tired fucking town.