I have crossed this road before for many years I'm sure don't recognize the faces though that pass me by I've been off and on my way again passed marsh road atherton black mountain way and bored stale houses on the yellowed plains
I'm going off again and
for no good reason
year by year I've achieved some type of feeling that
suggests I've traveled miles that lead to nowhere fast
I've seen the lot of them from queens to journeyman bigots and confidantes I've spoken to and laughed with destructive catalysts professionals and loyalists punk rock pop nihilists have grown up amongst suburban architects who can say that it was all deceiving or that anybody was mislead? I'm not the one to be judging I may not even be who I think I am The asphalt is my burning bed has left me invalid puts me to sleep at night in the arms of some strange no mans land I'll be back northbound and west I need the fucking rest but in the meantime these broken roads and homes will ring in my head

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