We drifted toward sleep where the street lamps were arguing. And the stars were all held hostage. And the highways were unfolding. We drifted toward sleep arm in arm like solders. We had seen too much action. And now we needed new weapons. We drifted toward sleep. It was all that we could think of. The one place left to go where no one knows our history. We drifted toward sleep. The last thing we did together. Before we closed our eyes. And headed into the great unknown.
In which a long-time record collector and sometimes poet shares shares vinyl finds, words of worth, and plays keep or cull.
