Jeremy came out of prison with this song on guitar.
He didn’t write it, he said it belonged to some old man that had been in there for decades.
But he added to it, rather subtlety.
Then he gave it to me, and I added to it rather subtly.
So it’s a song that only exists in the minds of the people that heard it, and it morphed, it modulated, it changed with the players that learned it.
Which is pretty weird.
Almost like, oral history or something like that.
A story that was passed down, changed a little bit, then passed down again.
Like it’s, I don’t know, organic.
A theoretical item that still has a relationship with time.
Music will never cease to amaze me.
And people really like to pretend that they’re tortured, or they’ve been through stuff.
Seems to tie back to that victimhood shit.
And we can all agree
“that’s gross”
That means you’re gross.
And I’m gross.
We Gross.
Stings don’t it?
You ain’t no fuckin victim.
Neither am I.
Also, why you want sympathy?
Weak bitch.
Downtrodden ass little fuck.
Stupid shit.
dawn 