Recorded in a basement, primarily to cassette tape.
You got a way about you classic beauty, loaded guns. No lipstick and rouge pavement not broken slightly brused. Coming down those alien trails, raindrops blood, pollution for toothless dogs who fight for jobs, candles sit on end tables. I will light your cigarette, smoke circles in your breath. Patient men breed champions raised them right, rope and pole, flags that wave on humid days, vains that flow with rock & roll.