After the show, a promise of snow covered coffee tables and we're off. The outskirts of Huntsville is right around the corner. Still, home is closer. A nice little culdesac and a house with a homely veneer. Inside I find my worst fear. Trashy redneck heaven with nowhere to lay but amidst a nazi shrine. Too tired to resist and too high to drive. I steal away in the early morning hours away from prying eyes. I am home now. No longer will frosty trump the warmth of conciousness.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
The Company You Keep
After the show, a promise of snow covered coffee tables and we're off. The outskirts of Huntsville is right around the corner. Still, home is closer. A nice little culdesac and a house with a homely veneer. Inside I find my worst fear. Trashy redneck heaven with nowhere to lay but amidst a nazi shrine. Too tired to resist and too high to drive. I steal away in the early morning hours away from prying eyes. I am home now. No longer will frosty trump the warmth of conciousness.
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1 comment:
Glad you made it out alive.
The juxtaposition of "Buddy Jesus" and an old Nazi flag is disconcerting. I don't think I'd have been able to sleep either. Although it sounds like you had more than one reason . . .
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