Long car rides through the corn. Leave me angry and torn. And my lap covered in ashes. I drive through small towns. With my windows down. Dreaming of fatal car crashes. Somehow I can't decide what to do with the night. Cursing at…

My party piece on acoustic guitar.

I found a spot beside the path on the mountain of Jazz, not very far up, but the view was pleasant, so I stayed a while and and grabbed some words from the beauty and life passing at the time.