She is not a brick house. Nor a lady. Nor a maniac. She is a train, summer garage-soul dreamers. One that can drive a naive 20-something insane. Things are compounded by the rain. Big drops of pain. But slow your eye roll and you’ll find endearing company in its hot, concrete jungle sax strut.
Riff by Gavin Paul
Gavin Paul is SONGLYRICS' Editor-in-Chief. Chicago-bred, New York-sculpted, his words and ideas have appeared in publications ranging from Spin and Rolling Stone to The Chicago Sun-Times and Arborist News.