Hold on to good friends; they are few and far between
Tonight Lambchop and I are going to loiter around the Dog Field. That’s the part of Boston Common along Beacon Street where people take their dogs to exercise as they hit on each other. It’s usually muddy and somewhat filled with feces. That sounded like a Nick Cave song to us, so we wrote “Down in the Dog Field.”
dark dogs blood rising
another tattered strumpet walks alone
i see the crooked right hand of god
O mother i’m close to home
Our tradition is to get pan-fried noodles and grape sodas from the Chinatown Eatery and perch atop the hill, surveying the romping hounds. Sometimes people approach us and ask to buy drugs, so I like to keep a bottle of Tylenol handy to make some quick cash.
Then we’re going to see Bend Over, Baltimore!.
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