Throw out them LA
papers
And that moldy box
of vanilla wafers.
Adios to all this
concrete.
Gonna get me some
dirt road back street
~ From L.A.
Freeway, Lyrics by Guy Clark
“Concrete and cars
are their own prison bars”
~ From Toes, Written by Zac Brown, John Driskell Hopkins,
Shawn Mullins and Wyatt Durette
Retirement talk has been revolving around the domestic
circle a lot lately. Mine, not the
wife’s. You see she’s been retired and
according to her it’s the shit (that’s urban slang for she likes it). I know this because she tells me it’s the
shit all the time, quite often after I've dragged my worn out bones into the
house after a day at the office and an hour on the freeway with a few thousand
of my fellow Americans feeling like shit; about 10 pounds of it in a 5 pound
sack (which is old school for suburbia blows).
