May 26, 2012 § Leave a comment
“Whistlin’ dixie at the scene.” – Kevin Devine – Whistlin’ Dixie.
Just a nation full of dumb kids. Caught whistlin’ dixie at the scene. Fuck you. She said. And she was write. Whatever excuse I can wax lyrical about being some beautiful escapism is lost of me. Or her. You. It’s lost on you. It’s hard to be compelling. For some. For others it bleeds out. In no attempt to be poetic it will come. But then there’s the local. The not so. They have to learn. Learn exactly where their talent lies. In these old streets with the rickety -brick-a-brack housing. They argue and they spit and they scream in the night it rings around these windows like a thousand crashing bells. It’s lost on me. The words don’t fit. Dixie at the scene.