I Hate Vegas.
If I ever thought there’d be a place I could fit in,
it’d be the city of sin.
This place reeks of hate and death.
Sure, they try to disguise it with palm trees and blinding electric light
but they still can’t get rid of the scorpions and diamondbacks.
There is poison at the heart of this city.
Boulevard of the Allies
Lost out on the Boulevard of Allies.
Visiting some like-minded fucks in the rust belt city of Pittsburgh.
Allies,
all of them
residing in a city that’s so charmingly dirty,
so romantically gritty,
so historically hard,
it’d make any vagabond with any sense
just weep.
So here I am,
strung out and out of my mind.
Running on whiskey fumes,
three packs of coffin nails,
and no less than seven pots of coffee.
In the great goddamn cathedral of the dive bar,
taking communion with good bourbon,
cheap beer,
and even cheaper intentions.
I’ve resigned my life to the overall bullshit we all call home.
The drugs,
broads,
booze,
brawls,
blood.
I’m finding myself out on this on ramp,
Craving highway.
Just looking for the right exit.
Jon Cass is three sheets to the wind & headed wherever it blows him. today, he's holed up in Pennsylvania. Tomorrow, who knows? It'll probably depend on a coin flip.
