Life's curved, survives

We had dreams of punk rock chicks. black tattoos and cold, steel nipple rings. we were gonna be in the greatest band. the biggest fucking never was to ever fall off the radar of obscurity with nothing but a cheap fist of mix tapes to show our cousins' kids a thing or two about the family legacy.

We were gonna make the kids sing and slam their fists into the concrete abandon between them and their stalled futures. we were gonna start a riot.

At the very least, we'd cause a fight. maybe get thrown out of the club and scurry off with our sucker's advance of fifty bucks to blow on old crow and gold smokes and a dime bag or two for show in the morning.

Gratitude, i suppose. we didn't smoke much. certainly not so soon as we found carolina boots and decided our time would be better off led in lifts and zippers (easy fuck shoes, one of us opined a bit too early on to realize his girlfriend was a lesbian and he'd be the last to tackle that rung).

We wore our chucks, too. but never so hard. never so faithfully. never with such earnest belief that when it came time to revolution the sound of new young vehemance we would be ready to kick a head in.

Or ten.

And then they'd see...

Now i wear nikes.

These Two Boots Of Mine.mp3