bucolic

on these dusty streets I've walked...



i need a stiff drink

I need a stiff drink
and a girl
with a punk hairstyle
to talk shit with
about flying high
and hell on wheels
in the dead of night
while the fire burns
hard and fast
straight through
till morning
where I find myself
with heart
and mind
a mass of
firing synapses
as look for certain
comfort in the arms
of some sweet
silly
somebody.