When we dropped the roach in the car we tore it apart and all that we found was change and burnt CD-Rs. They represent who we are, discarded copies of the kids in other towns. Give me a mix tape of hope, a quarter ounce of dope and just enough gas to get to Bruce Park. But when I drive through New Martinsville I see the place I've been fucked or beat up. Willimantic's the same but all they names changed to the place and people I waste my time with. All cities are coffins for street signs and bicycles. Where parents and cops are the same thing. Like your first kiss and first cigarette. The first paycheck you spent from the first job the you quit. Every town is boring and all your friends are temporary but you've gotta die somewhere. We've all gotta die somewhere.
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