They’ll never know what it was like carrying your lunch in a rain bucket along with a pocket full of sassafras candy and unfiltered cigarettes as you hitchhiked on old flatbeds hauling hay and corn meal to the last men still grazing the alpine meadows as autumn started to turn ten toes toward winter.
Why back in those days we’d sit on the hay and laugh raucously, using our Smartphones to look up pictures of Jar Jar’s cock, balls, and anus. Not a care in the world.
They’ll never know what it was like carrying your lunch in a rain bucket along with a pocket full of sassafras candy and unfiltered cigarettes as you hitchhiked on old flatbeds hauling hay and corn meal to the last men still grazing the alpine meadows as autumn started to turn ten toes toward winter.
Why back in those days we’d sit on the hay and laugh raucously, using our Smartphones to look up pictures of Jar Jar’s cock, balls, and anus. Not a care in the world.