Where 2 Roads Meet

The streets have folded up, time to go home
With dime store precision, you bow down to it
You could care less where the pieces lay
You've paid all you bills, you've got nothing to say

Authoritarian Americana, your eyes shot through it
Three dollar breakfast, and you thought it would end any day
But it lingers on like a weird night in Cleveland
Bangin' on steel doors, crankin' out real riffs

You go to a party at 15th and Summit
You show up with Arlus, Max Flash and Amrep
The place is a vacuum, you ask for the bathroom
Some girl's make-up is everywhere, like a Ciccone exhibit

You run into Genе, he plays in a local band
He's advanced to shooting hеroin in the back of his hand
His band had some promise back before people started to dance to 'em
Now they really suck, and it's known to you and Ron but not to him

You really should be leaving, Shelly's waiting at your place
Her warm wet fur awaits you, in your mind, you can picture her face