Mid-West Mythos Part three

If the shoe fits, it's on the other hand.

Someone said of Fire in that gate School teachers yard. As a fire chases the gasoline it's heading straight to do his home harm. Horns Blair from big trucks and there's jocular laughs to wake the poor man already his home is the blaze of flame he's not getting out of this one without some severe skin damage.

Hey it's a long violent tradition, the rules don't have to be written. They're in a sinner Sinister DNA just waiting to be overlaid. And they say we rise from a pagan Dark Age. But any religion needs its sacrifices it needs a lot of folks to die. And I think we've got a right contradiction never changes it's stocks every night.

Another day in a cloud of second-hand smoke. The City sporadically has Cops engaged in obscure activities once this area was peppered with temples and burial mounds. But every inch of it has been torn away. Paranoid have too much acid and so we go into a city of ghosts. Dried up skeletons on the floor to Facebook no one posts. City wants inflame but not all reclaimed by plants and animals.

The Revolutionary year they turn the grass Lawns and two little gardens. Tomatoes corn and beets radishes near the streets the whole city bursting with food. They had to make new laws that put this whole nonsense down. Homeless people happily eating ears of corn as they walked through your town.

Buckets of popcorn on every street corner. It was a long strange hot season, and it tasted like freedom. A short-lived culture, resented for their public nudity. Feedback submit to heart attack live under the Seal of prudity.

Sticky shrouds hung amongst the towels. Had it ever started, it be all over now.

young women walking by with the summer in their eyes come their nipples are like fruit.

The Prairie wolves are back, and they're hungry for men.

And those that come after us will make mobiles from our bones drill holes to make them whistle in the Wind