Heroes are hung with the expectations of the hopeful
all stories are told through tellers and listeners being born again with oral tradition and imaginations
of the few whose eyes meet theirs intimately
watching it unfold in bedrooms
just for one day
Melancholy is an understatement when mixed with 8 parts anger
10 parts pain
The black clouded dog carrying the chip and monkey pointing at your shoulder and mirrors that refuse to even look into the eyes of the
Stares blank full of the been here before and back again
Nothing will fade the dreaded feeling, no gas can or flame
No anti genesis allowed in these parts just a comfortable wood shed
No one will take me behind
Kid Koala – Moon River (Studio Version): http://youtu.be/Pp0U7SkYl2E
To Whom it May Concern,
Do you remember this as well I do,
some time ago.. well longer than that time ago but you’ll get it sooner as I go.There was the average New York lad selling his wares around the neighborhoods with the blessings both respectable groups,you know the guys who controlled these things think concernedHi heavy community members who had businesses.
Our young man here was liked in the all the boroughs of course he was handsome.charismatic and one hell of an athlete at least from I was told.A guy could make a good dollar channeling these talents into a lucrative sales position with great hours and the love of the ladies,right?
With all of that and blessings our boy became to do well for himself,the muscle boys gave him no static and things are were solid enough to start a home.So a little boy ran around the modest apartment as cash was not a problem,so it’s sorted no?
Of fucking course not this is my story I am telling and it’s New York know what I mean?
Some of these great sales now were a little too hot except not in the 66 Mustang sense but in the hot boilers of the good old Titanic .So this raised an eyebrow at the community board because they knew the warranties would be included in the colorful obituary columns.So worried the board that they give him a list of who not to let into his candy shop because their kids had sweet teeth,you know?He held good sale practice until he couldn’t anymore so of course you know what happens right?
They ran him over then backed over him ,ran over him then back over well you get the scene cause there is a few more back overs.There is a red light put there to stop speeding fathers from driving down their own salesmen who can sell their shotty shots to your kids but not theirs..
And everyone knows it’s there peering at it with the corner of a right eye
sitting next to support beams almost out of view
silently glaring back to the conscience adding a washed up heavyweight with a case of glass jaws
it’s not your day kid
self destruct in the 3rd
a private war of melancholy lust filled eureka moments you could call it but only translates into a mumbling Behan to himself about the drink,the fuck and the fight
we pray for the language and explanation just to be met with low angry jeers waving the white flags of the constant let down that cements these beams to the peripheral vision
wearing skin down into the crow wrinkles and the almosts
and bartender is not the talkative type