Post by megan on Sept 23, 2009 16:01:03 GMT -5
` h a r b o r l i g h t s ,
[/color][/font]harbor lights, harbor lights[/color][/font]
( Bangor, Maine )[/color][/font]
Some places, like New York, or Los Angeles, shit's
expected to hit the fan. Other, it's just seen coming--it's always
the quiet ones, and small town's are the exception. Then, there
are the medians, the proof that no matter just where you think
you're going, you're fucked. You're stuck. Drama, liars, cheater and
bitches--they're everywhere. Bangor, Maine, is not out of the
norm. You've got what you'd find anywhere else: your sluts, your
power-hungry liars, and of course, your innocent bystanders just
unfortunate to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You're in
the cross fire, kids, and no matter how close you get to that coast
and the Penobscot River, you can't douse them. You're a part of it. A crackling torch and its flame. Might as well hold your head up, and
try to breath while standing with the rest of the Harbor Lights.
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