we live in a nice neighborhood for the mostpart.
but during the week, you wouldn't know it between the hours of 8 and 10 am.
you see, there's a methadone clinic around the corner.
and in the morning, the junkies come from far and wide.
to get "clean".
and this evening one of the junkies must be expressing his thoughts in the matter.
and for a moment i was walking down 222nd street as a youth.
crack viles crunching under my feet.
just like autumn leaves.
walking to my favorite record store in the bad part of town.
knowing that more than likely that it was a drug front.
but they had the latest album by something something explosion.
at the end of the day your memories are all you've got left.
—the bastard
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