Or like that crazy instrument,
that you didn't think you could afford to buy,
at the time...
Or like some women...
You touch them,
and, they're fire.
But, you walk away,
thinking you'll forget, or find another,
just as good.
Man, that thing could race...
That was a fine Gibson.
That thing would be worth thousands, now...
I could have lived with her, forever...
Goddamn, she made a new forever, every day!
They're like Heroin.
You know that you won't stop wanting them.
And, you know that, when you leave.
But, you leave, anyway.
You come back, later, and, they're gone.
Then, he laughed.
Where's that lucky hat, you used to wear?
I always liked that hat...