You and I have to go and take that bridge to anywhere but here. This dark heritage, for us is unrelenting. I will not be last one to be left standing here. No ashes, only dust. Salt mist rimes our faces. We are outcasts in most places and followed all the while. The laws of this tribe are meant to be broken: a truth , but unspoken. Don't be the only one. Driving all night, The cassette tapes break. Five Fingers and no squares. Home and comfort far behind. Lightning through the windshield. This is how we make our break. I dreamt I saw you akready in your grave. Leave off your talk. Moss on the rocks. Moss on the clock. Show me where. Tell me who. Tell me what to do. As I look through this dirty window (let it go) all I see is grey. Looking forward (let it go) all I see is your corpse. Looking back, where did it go, what I saw was my own death. When I hitchhike home from some desperate night, I think of the witch, and I hope I am right.
