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Tony Moffeit |
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leaving las vegas drunken city jazz horn real estate born in jazz horn sound track of her lips roulette drink lady luck dice roll neon sign las vegas wheel stroll in leather the sidewalks are hot yeah horn yeah death in profile around the hub of the lights of the city stumble down stumble in crap shoot he can still feel the bottle in the dice thrown out of the motel head daze tropical habana crosswords unfinished and moving on to solitaire yeah comet yeah flaming comet o turn to burn oneself out burn in solo star along the weeping vine out on the town take a night flight tonight's the night wilderness grow wilderness in flaming jazz horn grow out on the boulevard she strolled he had gone into the casino she had spit on the bouncer she in patent leather to go down throw down it was guerilla warfare the air was smoke headwaters on their way to hell looking for crazy horse in a mirage in a jetstream they searched for his face as shadows moved across the sky the wail of the blues from a horn the horn wail and bodies burning warfare turned on and out of it choose your weapons choose your partner choose your gang or be alone be alone and then choose for one for two as one choose the blues like backnight poker under the neon breathing the sand of the dunes put it in overdrive one last time turn to fire the trailing foam to awake in that space take on the town drowning in liquid in the desert game town played down two and one and three the numbers five and four and six the numbers gaming the sides of the dice bones pulsing from convulsion the bottles unhidden the demon that's ridden and feel the horn it's what you're born for and to be thrown out white trash of empty bottles and the mercurial ride leaving and returning leaving and returning leaving [Index] |
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Thunder Sandwich #26 - Summer/Fall 2005 |
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