the road had some kind of hold that wasn't always so obvious. black nights with dim street lights that could have been candle lights, for the attention that they had been given, while rushing down dark paths. everything was always dark and the only concern besides broken yellows line on the pavement, was a cry of dirty broken jazz screaming through old brass, that sent was after its true life. sick and dirty was the only sight amd sound along the road at night. no one held attention ever long, it was a marriage of broken promises and hopes, that were really the fears of people that tried to chase away the dark.
knowing that there was always anger keeping shut, about this truth. teeth grit harder with quickening tempo, senses tense while spreading across roads always moving never looking into peoples eyes. just empty following busted up instruments spewing some kinds of jazz, undefined aggression racing along till morning... some where between sunset and sunrise the call always came
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