and somewhere inbetween carrabba and skiba is where i'll write my songs. i'm sick of singing the ones you want. and how you rip on my friends that scream "we appreciate brand new!" out a car window speeding, past midnight, on US1. it's what we want. it's how we live. we drive to bright eyes and spitalfield and fall asleep to something corporate. and when worse comes to worse let morrissey and the cure get us through. and may buddy holly always be our definition of rock n' roll. and if we must cry, let it be to the tunes of matchbook and postal...
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