| Do you remember the day after when your hand was stained, and we woke up in the misty bogs back out behind Beloxi, and it was Gulfport, an artillery range perhaps..?The shyster was skimming tales of blue skies all the way to New Orleans, and we bought every word, being drown in the red the second nights before, and the suds the night before.You woke up round eight, and I fell asleep, then you woke me up at oh about 10:30 am, I could see the sun and I was complaining saying "Let me go back to bed" and you said "No Let's go on instead" ????So we packed up our gear, the car was done; caught a cab to the englishmen's shop.Both exhausted, but it was victory stepping into that piece of shit, expecting it to be working like new.??TO fullfill our trip we both knew that New Orleans was the only way to go.Now you remember this well...???We stopped off at a Shoneys and ate to our heart's content, you were mistaken for a girl, so was I, the jazz scene was enveleping.?We were exhausted, an hour outside New Orleans.? |
| We were exhausted, an hour outside New Orleans.?I said "Find a place to park, we need some R&R."?You sat on the hood of the car pulling your long lost guitar from the trunk strumming at it randomly.?I laid down in the back.?Can we have few minutes peace?No.?There came an old haggardly man with broken teeth, skin burnt from living his entire life under the new orleans sun, eyes crazy red, walking over and talking to you Brad!?I sighed, what next, what new danger, what new threat..I barely had the energy left in my tank to place us in survival mode.? |
| I barely had the energy left in my tank to place us in survival mode.?I opened the door as you played and spoke with him, came around and started to talk to him, tapped your leg so you would keep distracting him.?The crazy old man ordered his wife off and a big grin formed on his face as he told brad of the stories of how a 500 lbs southern gal took his virginity by the balls, and dangled his guitar out a window on bourbon street.?I slowly reached down into the glove compartment placed between the seats, grabbing a switch-blade; shoving it in my pocket.?The old man didn't seem to notice, and he kept trying to get the guitar from you who normally would have obliged willingly, but now was in a state of exhaustion that left his words anti-peace meal.?I stood at the open door behind the man as he talked to Bradley sitting on the hood, thumbing the blade in my pocket.?Finally the man gave up; he bade us farewell and turned to me, walking so close that his nasty body was against mine, and smiled a big toothy yellow stinky smile tapping his hand against my left pant pocket where my left hand held the blade.?He nodded, smiled, smiled, smirked, and he was off! |
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