Moodswing Records

bastards of young, we always ended up living by the railroad tracks. I guess the sounds of the train cars drowned out the noise of the neighbors. Maybe it was the nightlife, or the long summer, but it definitely wasn't the egos, They were bigger then the city. It all started out in the suburbs, jumpin fences and shotgunning mickys in the parking lot of the quarter coke. Thats where we learned to jam econo, and the rules that you scream till you die and youll probably die swinging. There were boot boys who jammed big, and jis jams that slammed danced. That had pretty hair, tatoos and the tight black pants like stinson copt off of thunders. It was 77 and the buffet was closed, howell dragon had banned for greasy bookbags, and the cops were catching on to the backyard house shows. Coming back from Richmond we stopped it up at the sunny garden. This town has fooled us, what was once our escape we now call our home. If there were an audience.. there would be expectation. So many fucking stories, most of them starting off with a couple of cheap beers or a good show at pj's or dotties or a plce on marietta boulevard. With a econoline full of folks. What a mess its made. I miss the trains, and the baby pools. Mostly I miss the views from the west end. Those nights could of lasted forever. We are the sons of no-one.