The crowd between sets millin round. Hippy homeboy in front was twirling his hair. Still - seemed like he had some game.
American Sharks in motion - was diggin.
This song they wrote about dog food.
The crowd awaiting the sword - taking a bit bit too long as some of the conversations around me got awkward.
FUCKIN' SWORD!
And more.
Grey marker dryin' on me.
Me running out of steam as the metal continues.
