You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows....

the trees are pushing up into the fog
it looks like their heads are cut off
the fog is pushing down to the ground
the world seems pretty pissed off
there’s blood on the road here most of the time
there’s people yelling out in the night
there’s women sitting next to their telephones
waiting for the ringer of fright
sometimes I wonder what it’s all about
this addiction to power and fame
forcing ourselves all over the world
ain’t nothing but a fucking shame
so how do I handle it
what do I do
with this anger boiling inside of me
I just aim my imaginary gun at his heart
and then I fire baby then I feel free

River Lightning

Dress your junk in music and shade
And the lightning will make it glitter

Felix Antonio

Felix Antonio, AKA "nene," had carved his crooked initials into the hard wood of the tree long before Joza Karas played Bocherrini at the altar, carving the ancient notes with his violin into the hard air of an August night in an ancient church, and the Harley just outside the doors carved its hard thunder on the sticky night just as Joza was finishing, a grand finale indeed.