Whole scenes of amber fog and mist.
Entire conversations of strategic intent.
On a run to nowhere, finding nothing.
Looking for signs of life and musicians.
Looking past the dejected and beat.
Feeling this place from the seventies.
When there wasn't as much going on.
Seemed everybody liked it that way.
The bubble busts and sonic booms.
Would rather y'all just pass right through.
However, the supply house has supplies.
Make it quick and don't bother hanging out.
No drinks around in this weird town.
Useless loops and high powered signals.
Cleaning cult of personality money probably.
International flights are booked ahead.
This annoying detour is much too long.
Someone has to be the first at everything.