"White Trash Heroes" Videos
Frozen out of focus, the sunday crowd
Started dreaming of television turned up too loud.
Coded conversation, half baked and tired,
Left us sleeping on blacktops burning the motor mile.
And underneath the arcade, details collide
There's good shopping, but all those patrons have too much style.
And moving in slow motion the boulevard started seeping
With them half-ravers and techno bars.
It is like below the neon sign
All speeding past the line and thrashing, I'm in paradise.
Sealed in concentration, the lantern lights
Started shrinking on dead men drinking white liquor wine.
And I asked the complication, the methane gas (? )
Started leaking on bastards burning half red and black.
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