I was spat cold and blameless into endless white light, screaming and blood-soaked like a murder at night. Born into creation like a maggot in meat, I washed up in Sacramento, where for a while life was sweet. They say that I broke the law but I’ve never done wrong, so I fled like a lover from a bitter torch song. I struck out toward the wastes, knowing I’d never return. The cops barred my passage with the fire of their guns. I was adrift in a sea of ancient green pines. Unshaped and unguided like ore in a mine. I fell in with a drifter from up in Alaska. We wandered out east through the Sierra Nevadas.
Гуру Песен