

Dragging horses into Troy…
Last night I dreamt of you, Abbie Hoffman peddling your books, I gave five bucks to you, the other kids just gave you dirty looks.
I said “I’m sorry it didn’t work out quite the way you planned.”
You said, “That’s silly boy, the revolution is at
hand.”
And if you got a ten spot brother, I got a dime,
These are desperate,
desperate times.
Last night I dreamt of you, Pepe Lopez strung out on a stage, It don’t even look like you, smiling like sawed-off twenty gauge.
I still remember the
Telecaster down around your knees,
It’s late November and I think I smell tequila on the
breeze.
And if you got the Cuervo honey, I got the lime,
These are desperate,
desperate times.
And if you got the shotgun honey, I got the crime,
These are
desperate, desperate times.–Rhett Miller
I’ve been too busy dealing with family issues to write or think or do anything really coherent of late. [Read more →]











