There’s a woman swaying in the crowd. Stevie Ray Vaughn is playing Little Wing and
the wind, you can feel the wind off to the right, coming from a river somewhere
painted yellow.
Fixed in the studio, nothing real with guts, no one-take
songs anymore. They just robbed the next
folks without leaving extras and pissed on the ones came before them.
Forget the music, it’s day.
Think of how a cat can tell you mean business by the look in your
eye. Underestimate it, go head. Scars and just scars.
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