ORANGE STREET Wayne Mason Drove by the old place on Orange St the other day and it was like seeing a ghost of myself The nights I spent there slowly going crazy talking to the cats and drinking the hours away watching sunrise through the bottom of liquor bottles some nights it was so quiet all I could hear was the sound of heart thumping or the sound of my goth roomate in the other room doing god knows what with her euro trash lover Most nights though it was a party and then I felt even more alone the lazy tea-heads and paranoid meth freaks never made it boring but they couldn't grasp what I was hoping to achieve this destruction was holy in a misguided way There is nothing worse than a junky telling you that you drink too much Of course there was booze and the cheap sex fucking away the pain of being alive, still yet in the morning they were just another body passed out on my living room floor My wife sitting across the car asks me if I miss it I contemplate the madhouse nights the booze cheap sex and drugs and the days withered away with nothing but cheap beer ramen noodles and a typewriter and tell her Nah Good answer she tells me |