What If

Haven’t posted here in a while. Tommy Bolon is dead, does it really matter?

Run down ghost town, no chance for love
No sign of life – just wild dogs howlin’ in the night
That’s what I like
Hey porter come and cut me free
I’m sick of my own company
Sometimes I miss the gold
Most times I miss my home
That’s where I’d go
If I knew which way was home
That’s what I like

Hear ’em howl….

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