Song lyrics and a shot of cold air. Il pluit. My guitar fingers are wasting away, becoming typing fingers, hand shaking fingers, horns and fins - oh, the shape I was in.
People say they think, but they don't
And then they say they will, but they won't
People say they think, but they don't
And that's alright.
Do you remember? Husker Du? Reviens toi?
There is a lax groove that's innate to grace under the fire of urban decay - Andy's Chest (Reed), Thinking About Tomorrow (Orton), People Say (Wolfgang Press)
Venom snipers after you.
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