Furnace
Ex-Bluelighter
I was driving home in my no-need-for-a-cock-extension car and opened the windows, letting the wind pass through.
Countless copies of the university paper where I
interviewed Hayden flew around the back seat,
along with stickers, more newspapers, and zines.
Balmes by Ian Pooley came on the radio,
and I turned my shitty system as high as it could go
and drove with the wind on my side.
I stopped at the red light in front of me on 91st ave,
turned my head, and inadvertedly breathed in
a barrage of gravel.
The streets weren't swept yet.
Countless copies of the university paper where I
interviewed Hayden flew around the back seat,
along with stickers, more newspapers, and zines.
Balmes by Ian Pooley came on the radio,
and I turned my shitty system as high as it could go
and drove with the wind on my side.
I stopped at the red light in front of me on 91st ave,
turned my head, and inadvertedly breathed in
a barrage of gravel.
The streets weren't swept yet.
