(in stills)

My brain is a back alley broadcast playing the suckers for a fit.

And i'm another...

Over and under the rain that's kept us sleeping all day. all night. for the first time since this city bore the name (it seems, again and again and again).

But what do i know?

My heart's not here today. i've just got my lungs and a gut.

What seems to matter is miles away. meeting. greeting. smiling that grin that's taken us all away at least once over drinks and drifts of fancy the likes of which it still astounds me i've ever seen.

Even with all this other fecund bullshit.

Old tire tracks and reason.