The days of our lives

I write this amidst the backdrop of Bryan Adams summer of ’69.
Now its the fear, despair, corruption and filth that makes me write for I witness and live through those things on a daily basis and without it I’d be so doggone lonesome.
And if didn’t have those things I’d melt with anyone of you I know that for sure.
But the times are changing, vinyl shops are slowly but surely closing down and few use a typewriter anymore (sigh) and she no longer sits on the porch waiting for me.
She got up and left a long time ago.
The time when I had a chance I only went and blew it like I did with most chances back in that turbulent time of recklessness and now just left to drown in a sea of pointless skullduggery.
It bothered me until I realised that I can rewrite my life of course then I dip my head in freezing cold tap water in the sink.
Coming to the realisation that rewrites have you remove the best parts with more sensical parts.
Remove the scandalous characters and replace them with the calm and mellow characters.
All because of fucking censorship.
So yeah I’ll just eat junk, bang out this post, think back to what went wrong and go to bed, music still booming and people still arguing.
I wouldn’t have it any otherway.
Though it won’t last forever.