It was pandemonium. The two gays lost their shyness and trapped me by the speakers. Jace rescued me by creating a feedback loop that blew out the 15 inch woofer; me and the gays were deaf for hours. No small talk at least. They did stick around as we moved the equipment into the truck. Being deaf meant I couldn’t talk to anyone, a blessing. Everyone wanted to talk with us. They were stuck with Robby as Michael was helping his dad with the truck. Being a drummer, he spoke a lot but no one had a clue what he said. He finally pulled out a joint. All the stoners joined him in chasing away the fans. One of the gays found my notepad and started writing me notes, asking personal questions. I wrote I was a dropout, which only encouraged them. They wrote their numbers and ended writing ‘just to talk.’ I smiled and they went off. Maybe I was the only other gay person they knew. Jesus, it was 1974 already, get out there.
Once the truck was loaded, we went back to Michael’s. After unloading everything, his dad asked if we wanted more pizza. We piled into his Caddy. Soon Sorrento’s was bedlam with our unbridled enthusiasm. Pizza and beer – rocker heaven. When we finished eating and had calmed down, Michael’s dad told us about the man who had talked with him.
“I know you really don’t want me as your manager,” he smiled at Michael, “but he wants to be and has more holiday parties lined up for you, if you’re interested.”
I still had trouble hearing, but I realized a decision was being made. Jace wrote me notes.
“We wanna keep it like it is, having fun and learning to play our own music,” I said
“You mean ‘False Gods? How did you think that song went over.”
Jace scribbled and I answered, “Well, it wasn’t something they’d ever heard. It wasn’t anyone’s favorite song.”
Robby said, “They did start yelling our name. At least they know who we are.”
“This guy’s in the music business. He can get you music lessons, a practice studio, publishing rights, a recording engineer, and a record contract.”
“You think we need lessons?” Michael looked pained at his dad.
“I’m not a pro, but that’s the best performance I’ve ever seen. That’s more important than singing lessons.”
Michael smiled at his dad again.
Jace was scribbling notes, but I spoke up.
“I don’t want anyone telling us what to do. Pardon me, Mr. Antonio, you’ve been great tonight. You seem to know how we feel. Michael is so lucky. If this guy wants to help with getting parties, that’s fine. He can take his 15%, but we do this for love of the music and (looking around) each other. Let us find our own way. It got us here. I vote you remain our temporary manager and you deal with this guy. If we have to fire you, Michael can come live with me.”
Everyone laughed, even Michael’s dad.
“Whatever Michael wants. You have my full support.
“Three cheers for Mr. Antonio, and here’s the bill,” as I handed him the check.
“From now on that’s coming out of your pay.”
We all groaned, and then laughed.
Back at the house, Jace and I sat in the window, silently loving our lives. He let me hold him in my arms, wiggling his butt so I knew we’d be in bed soon.
“Do you think our song sucks?” he asked.
“We’ll work on it. But everyone there knows our name, that doesn’t suck. It was so great. Were you jealous when the gay boys cornered me?”
“No, ‘cause when I blew out the amp, you looked relieved.”
“Yeah, when you didn’t go off with the groupies to do coke, I was happy.”
“What are gay guys like? Are they just like us?”
“They seemed shy at first, but once they knew I liked them, they got too familiar.”
“Did you wanna sock ‘em.”
“No, they were sweet, but I wished they would go for each other. Being gay together doesn’t mean they were having sex. It’s like a secret club.”
“How come they didn’t check me out?”
“You’re mine. They didn’t dare.”
“We really fagged out, didn’t we?”
“It was pretty natural. Maybe I have to perform to be my real self, put it all out there.”
“I almost kissed you at the end of the Beatles’ ‘Love, Love. Love.’”.”
“Yeah, I felt it, too. Right place, right time.”
“You are so wise. But I know where we should be and what we must do right now,” he smiled and led me to bed.
Afterwards, with him sleeping in the tossed about sheets, I thought about what made us different from most people. Most people would say, ‘if I could stop time; this is the perfect moment in my life.” We knew it was perfect and hoped it would never end. Planning for the end dooms the entire enterprise. ‘Beam me up, Scotty.’
The next morning, Robby, Mary, Jace and I went to Michael’s to clean up the equipment and do some jamming while talking about what had happened. Each of us had a different point of view. Jace was amused by the girls wanting to fuck him by offering coke. I remembered the whistling Robby had done during Free Bird, so we set up a mic so he could be heard. Michael was just into his drumming and asked if we’d go with him to see Buddy Rich at a gig in the Grove.
“But he’s a jazz drummer,” I objected.
“Yeah, but he plays so fast and does so much improvising, I kinda idolize him.” Michael admitted.
“No false gods,” Jace wryly noted.
“But he is a god on the drums.”
“Fall to your knee, useless flea.” Jace mocked him.
“What are we gonna do about our song?” I asked, thinking about what Michael’s dad had said,
“Tighten up the lyrics,” Jace said, looking at me.
“Change the tempo,” Michael said to Robby.
“Make it a ballad, instead of metal,” I looked at Jace.
“So the song basically sucks,” concluded Robby. “You guys wrote it, but it’s my song from the Samhain celebration.”
“It’s not bad. It just can be better. I’ll redo the lyrics.
“I’ll work on a simpler rhythm for Tim and change my leads to make it jump,” Jace smiled at me.
“Robby and I will fight it out on drum loops,” Michael said.
“I want to sing the vocals. It’s my song,” Robby asserted.
“We’re setting up a mic for you, so why not do lead vocals,” I didn’t care that he was asserting himself. “I’ll just do rhythm, and Mary can sing harmony with you as backup vocals.”
“I wanna do a song about drugs,” Jace announced.
“Yeah, you can just tell everyone, ‘I take drugs.” Robby mocked him.
“Okay, that’s the first line,” Jace challenged him.
I added, “but I don’t understand, how we let things get so out of hand.”
“Cool,” Michael said.
“That means it’s also a love song,” Mary noted.
“Let’s say what drugs do,” I suggested.
Jace rattled off, “Heroin and cocaine makes a speed ball, Dilaudin and codeine soften the fall, Thorazine puts me away for a while, XTC and beer just make me feel queer.”
I countered with, “Whiskey and ‘ludes make me real rude, acid and pot makes my brain rot, PCP you forget about me, Pills and beer chase away my fears.”
“Hot shit, that’s it,” we all agreed.
Michael’s dad walked in and asked what we were doing.
“Writing a new song. It’s about drugs,” Jace popped off.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said, hitting his hand to his head.
“No, Dad, it’s about what drugs really do and how it affects others, especially your girlfriends.” Michael rationalized.
“So it’s anti-drugs?” he asked. “And when did you start having more than one girlfriend?”
“No, Dad, all of us have girlfriends, one each, except for Jace.”
I piped up, “And he has Max.”
He laughed. We showed him the lyrics we had written. He wondered how we knew so much about drugs.
“We see what it does to our friends. It’s not so much anti-drugs as getting kids to know that what they do affects others.”
“But it starts by saying you take drugs.”
“No one will listen if we aren’t singing about what it’s like for us. Otherwise we’re preaching. We don’t tell anyone they should take drugs. We try to show what it’s really like.”
“So you do drugs so you can tell people not to do it?”
“That’s hypocritical. I drink beer and smoke pot. Most kids do, or wish they did.” I was sure he was going to quiz Michael and/or call my folks.
Mr. Antonio smiled. “I better let you do your thing, without any parental interference. I came in to tell you about that guy who wants to be your manager.”
“Yay, Marshall Stacks,” Jace shouted.
“Well, that’s not his name.”
“That’s just what we call him,” I said. Everybody but Mr. Antonio laughed.
“Anyway, he wants you guys to play a bunch of parties over Christmas, plus a fraternity gig at the University after finals, before Christmas break.”
“How much will they pay,” Robby was keen to know.
“Well, that Pete guy wants you back and he said he’d pay double after how much his friends liked your set.”
“Double the trouble, double the fun, double mint, double mint, double mint gum,” I sang.
“That’s two hundred bucks a party,” Robby calculated.
“I’ll tell him,” Mr. Antonio said.
“Um, there was some damage to an amp,” Michael nervously told his dad.
I interrupted any family dispute by asking, “Hey, Mr. Antonio, how come you have such great equipment. Were you in a rock band when you were our age?”
Distracted from the damage issue, he told us about the jazz combo he was in during college. They still get together for reunions.
“That’s why Michael wants to go to Buddy Rich in the Grove; he has all your jazz genes.”
“Buddy Rich. He’s a genius.”
“We’re afraid Michael will go all jazz on us, though.’
Well, I’ll pay for all you guys to go if you keep an open mind. I also accept that rock and jazz will never merge.”
“Incorrect-o, Mr. Antonio,” Jace asserted. “You should listen to Stanley Clark, Jeff Beck, and Steely Dan. It’s progressive rock.”
“You play a sweet guitar, Jace. Is that a Gibson.
“Yes, sir, a Les Paul SG. Did you play guitar, Mr. Antonio?”
“Stand up bass, but we started to use a Les Paul Custom in the early fifties.”
“We could use a bass player, Mr. …” Jace started before Michael interrupted him
“Dad we need to get Jace’s amp fixed. He blew out a woofer.”
“Sure, you can get one at Spec’s. Martin will charge it to my account. Can you install it?”
“No sweat. Also we need another mike set-up for Robby; he’s gonna sing that original song you criticized. Also, Tim could really use a better guitar, maybe a Fender Mustang.”
“Hold on, I’m not Daddy Warbucks here. Just get the speaker and maybe a couple sets of strings for Jace. I saw he broke his strings last night.
“Yeah, he didn’t even know it, just adjusting his chords without thinking. He’s a prodigy, Dad.”
“I agree, and I’m leaving you guys alone, ’cause this is costing me money.”
“One last thing. Can I take driver’s ed this winter. I’ll be sixteen in February and no one drives yet.”
“God. What else do you want to ruin my life with? Of course.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Michael said. And we all echoed him, “Thanks, Dad.” He looked a bit nonplussed, but the rest of us could only wish we had so cool a dad.
Before he finally left, he turned back to Michael, “And who is your girlfriend, by the way?”
“Oh, your friend Mr. Lombardi’s daughter, Jenna. But don’t tell him ‘cause he might kill me. She’s only fourteen.”
“Oh my god.” He shook his head and left before any other bad news.
Jace looked at Michael, “Why didn’t you ask for Marshall Stacks?”
“You’re lucky I don’t get you to pay for the speaker. I saw you blow it to save Tim from those gay groupies.”
“Yeah, thanks for the earache,” I added.
“What’s wrong with my dad’s amps, anyway?”
“I ain’t complainin,’” Jace admitted, “But I was promised Marshall Stacks.”
“And how can I sing without a mic?” Robby complained.
“You guys are assholes. And now I gotta deal with my dad a lot more. I had him on ice.”
“Well, thawing him out has paid off. He’s so nice, how can you complain? You can have my dad anytime in trade,” I told him.
“Just don’t piss him off.”
“Hell, Jace invited him to be our bass player, False Gods and the geezer, now appearing at the old age home.”
“Hey, my dad’s not even forty.”
“Forty? Do people live that long now?” Robby asked.
We tried to work on chords for the drug song, while I was trying to fix the ‘False Gods’ lyrics. Michael came over and sat with me while Robby was going crazy with drum solos.
“Hey, man. Regardless, your old man is pretty great. I know it makes it harder for you, but he really seemed happy for you at the party. And he tries to stay out-of-the-way.”
“Yeah, nothing really suicidal. I have been using his equipment for years. This is my first time in a band.”
“Can you handle Robby being all competitive?”
“We’ve always been that way, and when he quits over some slight, I’ll still be here. He’ll be back after a snit fit.”
“You guys are pretty good friends.”
“Ever since Mrs. Longbottom’s nursery school.”
“That’s her real name?”
“No, we always make shit up about adults.”
“Well, I’ve always moved. I never had a real best friend until last year.”
“How come you and the jockhead fought?”
“Scott? It was over a girlfriend.”
“But I thought you were boyfriends.”
“He needed more than that, so when he got a girlfriend, we stopped being in love.”
“Wow, What a soap opera. But friendships don’t really break up over girlfriends. You just go back to where you were when the lust is done and you need a friend again”
“I hated him that day he came over when everyone was there. He totally rejected what we had. Called me a fag.”
“But that’s what you are.”
“Yeah. But I also have a girlfriend, just not like with Scott. Mine’s only fourteen, so we can’t even talk about sex.”
“My girlfriend Jenna’s fourteen and it’s the same. Our families would kill us if we went too far.”
“Tina’s dad listens to our phone calls. She lives in New York. All we have is the phone. But the feelings are so strong when we’re together, I know we can be in love.”
“But we gotta wait, right?”
“Yeah, she’s definitely a virgin. I never thought about Scott when we were together. She totally orgasmed when we made out.”
“The good thing about Jenna is how exciting it is to sneak around. It’s like Romeo and Juliette.”
“She’s Italian, too. Like the movie.”
“That was such a hot movie. I wish Shakespeare was always like that.”
“You want to live in the Middle Ages? Die for your love?”
“I’m not that romantic, but we always have fun when she sneaks out. That’s why I need my driver’s license.”
“Not so you can drive us around to gigs.”
“Fuck you guys.” We both laughed.
“What about you and Jace? I never thought there was much to him. He was always a sad sack. Now he turned into a rock star. How’d that happen?”
“He stood up to his step-mom. They were going to send him to The Program. I hid him at my house until the guards who came to pick him up had left. It got to me that no one really cared about him before. We really clicked, and he talked his folks into not sending him away.”
“You waved your magic wand and the guards vanished, poof.?”
“I don’t call it my wand.”
“I knew you seduced him.”
“Totally wrong. He just knew my weakness for rescuing the abandoned. He’d plotted the whole hideout thing. When he found out I also wanted the band thing to happen, we just clicked. Once he had a reprieve from drug rehab, we started singing and playing guitar together.”
“So are you boyfriends now?”
“Yeah. Will that bother you?”
“No way. I can see how much electricity you generate together. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on. Jace’s a totally different person. If I was gay, I’d want to be in on it too.’
“Unfair, ‘cause that ain’t happening. But I love being in the band with you two. It’s crazy watching you turn the crowd on with your antics. The covers we do express everyone’s fantasies. The girls love it when you fag off, making their boyfriends act out to get their attention back. I’ve never seen gay guys acting out. It pulls everyone in. These songs are like jungle love.”
I’d never really talked with Michael before. He and his dad were alike in that they were intelligent but didn’t try to impress you. I wanted to talk about Jace and me, but the Joey rule prohibited it. I knew he really liked us as we were, happy to be part of the band thing. What was weird was hoping his dad would react the same way. I showed Michael the lyrics I had worked on. He didn’t try to change anything, as if he had no opinion, other than he liked a line or didn’t. It was perfect criticism.
“Where others fear to tread,
they gave us up for dead,
memories live on eternally,
heard as Lucifer’s proud plea,
a world of our own,
on high a black throne,
we sang to make them see,
to be happy for eternity
…we are False Gods, we are False Gods…
A world so meek and blind,
laughing at all of mankind,
fools never understand,
we’re not Satan’s band,
a world of endless flaws,
facades and miracles applause,
eulogized but despised,
we shed our false disguise,
fall to your knees,
utter useless pleas,
…we are False Gods, we are False Gods…
pray in foreign tongues,
shoot your useless guns,
sacrifice your hallowed sheep,
shun the cold, dark streets,
to us you’re nasty fleas,
we made our minds to be
…False Gods, False Gods…
we will live eternally,
hear your painful screams,
keep our cold certainty,
you know just what we mean
….We are False Gods, False Gods..
… False Gods”
Copyright MIB David Delgado, Tar Larner
Michael grabbed the lyrics and ran to Jace, who quickly read them, then smiled his evil grin, and said, “False Gods.” Robby read them and wanted to offer a prayer to Mael, but Mary hushed him.
“These are genius, Tim,” she said, and whispered, “we are False Gods, False Gods.”
Michael ran to show his dad. Jace started adding his chords which fit perfectly in a four/four, or four beats, three beats, then pause sequence, adding leads after each couplet. Michael’s dad came rushing in with Michael jumping behind his drums. Jace hit a couple of leads, then I spit out, “Where others fear to tread…False Gods.” The song was exactly two minutes long. Mr. Antonio looked at me, shook his head, “Life should always be this easy. You created a completely different mood. This is poetry, not song.”
I feared he meant that as criticism, but his enthusiasm told me poetry could be good, not boring, classroom crap. He piled us into his Caddy and drove to Spec’s. The owner, Martin Spec, greeted him as soon as we walked in.
“Martin, this is my son Michael’s band. Set them up with anything they need, whenever they come in. Just send me the bill. If it’s too much, I’ll call you. You have a Fender Mustang for Tim, he writes the songs?”
“Sure, Mr Antonio, come here, son.”
It was too much for me. The tears welled up and I bolted out the door. I sat down hard on the curb. Jace came and put his arm around me. I sobbed and sobbed, with the world spinning around me. Michael’s dad came over,” Hey, isn’t that what you want?”
Robby answered, “He always gets this way when he can’t handle his emotions. He has to cry every day just to feel normal.”
They all laughed, but I was so embarrassed. I felt I didn’t deserve someone being so nice, like the dad I didn’t have.
Robby told my story to Michael’s dad. “Hey, Mr. Antonio, Tim’s had a tough year. He moved here from Alaska, his folks got divorced, he was City High School Swimming Champ, his best friend hates him now, his girlfriend lives in New York, his parents made him quit sports to get a job, he saved Jace from being sent to rehab by hiding him at his house for a week, we did a pagan ceremony at Halloween, and he has nightmares. He cries really easy.”
Mr. Antonio looked at me and gave me tough love, “Well, if someone doing something nice for you makes you cry, I guess I’ll just be mean from now on.”
I laughed and choked from the sobs. He smiled. I felt what it was like to have an adult on my side. Jace was fairly upset by my breakdown. I was his rock. If I crumbled so easily, he was on unsure ground. When I saw him trembling, I sucked it up.
“Hey, I only cry when I’m happy. Don’t worry we’ll have some crisis to deal with to toughen me up.”
Martin Spec came out and asked if everything was okay.
“Yeah, wrap up that Fender and throw in a few tissues, in case these tears of happiness come back, and get Michael to tell you which fifteen inch woofer needs to be replaced. And why not throw in a practice amp to go with the guitar. Anything else you need, Michael?”
Jace murmured, “Marshall Stacks. Marshall Stacks.”
“Hang on, cowboy. When you get to play the Orange Bowl, your stacks will be there. Let’s concentrate on Gables parties for this Christmas.”
I stayed on the edge of tears for a while, so we all agreed that more practice could be delayed until we had better control of our feelings.
Robby murmured, “Pizza and beer. Pizza and beer.”
But Mr. Antonio said, “”You’re having a real Italian dinner tonight, with Michael, his mom, and me.”
Everyone cheered, except Michael, but he was out-voted.
Later back in my room, I lay on the floor with my belly so bloated it looked like a blimp, unable to gain lift-off. Jace asked me why I cried so much when everything was so nice. I had just been given a rockin’ guitar.
“I cry when I’m happy. I don’t know why. Sometimes my feelings are too much for me, even when they’re good feelings.”
Jace started singing, “’ Good, good, good, good vibrations…”
Beach Boys – ‘Good Vibrations’
“Hey, Michael was talking to me about us. He’s cool that we fag out so much on stage. He likes watching the straight guys get uncomfortable.”
“You told him what we’re doing?”
“No. I don’t kiss and tell. He asked if we’re boyfriends. He likes it. He also told me he’s not interested in participating.”
“He said that?”
“Word for word.”
“Well, there goes your dream of a four-way with all of us.”
“No thanks. I’ll just go for boyfriend fuck.”
I knew all my emotional turmoil wasn’t that attractive to Jace, so fucking had to prove we were tight, top and bottom. He let me take the lead at first, so we had our first 69 that went all the way to climax for both of us. It was easy to tell how close he was, as he never held back. It felt so good that his first shot of jism hit the back of my throat just as I went off down his gullet, spasming so he knew what was happening in the midst of his own orgasm. I licked him clean like a kitten and its milk. He was hard again while my cock was strictly not. He had saved his tongue for my ass. He used it until I was squirming for his invading dick. He loved teasing me, asking if I was so happy, would I’d cry for him? No tears, just squirming to be serviced. Once I was relaxed, wet, and yearning for it, he gave it to me, the full on Jace, five minutes of massive thrusts, scraping my prostrate on both in and out strokes. I had leaked all over my belly, with legs around his waist. While fucking me on his knees and holding my butt off the bed, he rammed me incessantly. I watched his face, eyes closed, changing from determination to holding his breath while he reached the edge of his orgasm. He opened his eyes and stared with the happiest look as he started to throb and explode deep inside me. The tears started again as I started spraying cum in all directions, including across his chest, in his hair, and a ribbon splat onto his face. He saw the tears, and immediately dropped my butt, holding me in a double arm hugs, licking my tears away.
“Don’t cry. I won’t leave you ever,” he whispered huskily, thinking I was sad.
“You make me so happy. I don’t care about the future. I love you so much now. I know you are here forever,” I kept crying and sobbing..
“Please don’t cry,” he begged. And the tears came from him, not tears of joy, not tears of pain, just tears of frustration and confusion. Well, so much for feeling sexy. No round three. I led Jace over to the window, holding him close to me, seated between my legs.
“What happened,” he asked.
“I can’t help crying when I’m so emotionally overloaded. Please don’t think it is you. You are so great. You amaze me. You make me so much better, in music, in sex, in love, in life. We are together. I’ll never let you go.” And I was crying again.
“Jesus,” he complained. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I’m the one who’s weak and needs you…. I gotta leave.”
He got up and was gone before I could react. I was stunned. He had left because I wasn’t there for him. Now I had a reason to cry, but I was so pissed at myself, I started pacing. I picked up my guitar and just found sad, angry chords. Words came to match the chords:
“You who acts so true, finding me sometimes blue, take me in your arms, calm me with your charms, you need me to give, what we need to live.
Take my hands, shake my hips, all that we can, kiss my lips, invade my mind, don’t leave my side, forget my pride, I need you inside.”
Just when my need was out of control, I heard his footsteps come up the stairs. The door flew open and Max came bounding in, licking my cheeks, tail wagging furiously, just so happy to be with Jace and me.
“I knew you needed Max-loving,” he stood there watching with a big goofy grin which I couldn’t resist returning.
“What was that song you were playing?” he asked.
I played and sang for him.
• You act so true,
• With me so blue,
• take me
• calm me
• you need me,
• a reason to be.
o Take my hands ,
o shake my hips,
o all you can,
o kiss my lips,
o invade my mind,
o don’t leave my side,
o forget my pride,
o I need you inside.
He took my guitar and played it back to me note for note, adding the vocal at the end, “take me inside.”
Putting down the guitar, he stretched out his arms to me. I threw him on the bed, pulled down his jeans and underwear, threw his legs over my elbows and entered him in one stroke. He screamed in pain and joy, his anus trying to push me out, while he held my butt so my cock remained buried deep inside. As the pain subsided, we started rocking and his dick rose to poke me in my belly button. His grimace of pain turned into relief and joy. I pumped his butt like I’d never stop. His breathing became ragged. He suddenly came, hitting my chin and soaking my chest. I kept thrusting as hard as I could. He became the passive recipient of my fuck. Soon the limp dick between my belly and his groin was back to full alert. I kept up the fucking. He came again, which pushed me over the edge. Holding him perfectly still, I came once, then a second time, and then a whole series of eruptions. I finally collapsed and letting his legs free from my elbows. He pushed my shrinking cock out his ass, rolled me so my face was buried in the pillow. He entered my ass from the back, similarly without foreplay, that pierced me so I knew what he’d felt and also what it felt to want more and more. His five-minute fuck wasn’t enough and I switched with him when he was done and did him a second time, also from the rear. Panting I rolled him over and we lay face to face. He instantly recovered and I soon had my legs over his shoulders, as he pumped my loose ass until I had regained my erection. Then he switched and stuck my cock up his ass. I pumped until he decided it was his turn again and we switched. We kept switching until I went over the edge at which he pulled out and both cocks erupted simultaneously, although with a diminished result. I looked over at Max who was in the corner in his ‘Our Gang’s’ Spot pose, with a paw over his eye. When he saw me looking, he jumped into bed with us. It grossed me out that he was licking the cum off our bellies. Jace said, “Now this is true Max-lovin’.”
We showered. Max slept with us that night. I must smell so much like Jace that he acted like we both were his keeper. In the morning we walked Max back to his garage. When we got to the street, he tugged us to Robby’s and barked at Robby’s window. A sleepy face appeared and tossed me a joint, saying it was for Max, not us. We agreed he’d get every hit, second-hand. Walking to the garage, a car drove by and recognized us from the party, shouting as they drove by, “False Gods. False Gods.”
We gave ‘em the devil’s horns. They gave us the middle finger and turned around. I thought they wanted to kick our asses. They were just college kids. When we took them into the garage to smoke the doobie, they were stoked and insisted on taking pictures with us smoking out.
Would our lives ever be the same? Not if we could help it.