Matt Cadd ground out his last cigarette on the hot asphalt beneath the park bench. The bands had marched to the beat of the bass drums and the wail of the bagpipes. The crowds had gone home, the speeches forgotten.
The dead remained, their eternity cocooned in the cold earth.
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*SF 6 LA 2*
So it's cliché to say "who *are* these guys" don't you think? We've covered
that ground. Perhaps it is time to say "they are finally playing...
2 days ago
1 comment:
Matt remained, too, always there. Good man.
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