I left this town with the throttle open wide / The heater was blowing but nothing inside / Could ember the darkness or swallow my pride / When I left this town I was running (Jeffrey Foucault)

But I remember us riding in my brother’s car / Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir / At night on them banks I’d lie awake / And pull her close just to feel each breath she’d take / Now those memories come back to haunt me they haunt me like a curse […]

Try another city, baby, another town / Wherever I have gone / Wherever I’ve been and gone / Wherever I have gone / The blues come following down (Jackson C. Frank)