Can’t stop tripping on these old roads I go down.
You confuse me with your riddles and sudden generosity.
So I always get nostalgic with that song.
Words like a mullet cut short on the frontin’
What I want you've got and it might be hard to handle.
$2.50 for a highball and a buck-and-a-half for a beer. Happy Hour is here.
Present company excluded every time.
Do you have to let it linger?
It’s too quiet in this room, I need noise, I need the buzz of a sub.
Good intention’s never good enough.
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink.
When I started writing these notes I had ambitions of stringing together all of the music into some overarching story. I quickly abandoned this because…