1 year ago
On leaving Jackson I passed a little place that had this old gas station left over. And then I hit the deserty part of western Wyoming which was beautifully vacant (rte 189) Lots of options for people worried about the urban sprall. And then there's been this ghost in my apt. He looks fake, and he is.
The evening sun is sinking low
The woods are dark, the town is too,
They'll drag you down, they're running the show
Ain't no telling what they'll do.
Tell ol' Bill when he comes home,
That anything is worth a try
Tell him that I'm not alone
And the hour has come to do or die.
All the world I would defy.
Let me make it plain as day.
I look at you and I sigh,
How could it be any other way?