Bad Blog! OUT!

Standing at the station, pick up my guitar, see a puddle by the platform, wonder what it is for, crying for a shadow, fucking up a rainbow, pounding on a drum set, twirling his sticks he sits behind a Gretch kit and sees the future, by the aisle a couple fight about their children, he has a tube of vinyl cleaner in his pocket, and no socks. He wonders about the stains on his big toenails, his broker says don’t buy Enron but he picks up 500 shares and keeps them for himself.