From the sound of the weather reports, today was the last official day of tolerable temperatures before the onslaught of the winter garbage that we get our noses rubbed in every year. These 60s were blissful and when we wake in the morning, it will be like they never happened and it will feel like they will never happen again. We just want to hop in the van with Streets of Laredo and never ask where they're headed. We can tell that they've got a monopoly on all of the remaining dandelions -- puffed out into white orbs -- ready to have their seeds blown and scattered, wishes made and forgotten. We can tell that they smell something on the breeze that speaks to them, that lures them. We are pretty sure that their arms and necks tan from the inside out, that they've just got it in them. They are of ghost towns and they are of tranquil lakes found just outside of town, reflecting the night skies back at them, or it might be the skies doing the reflecting. Within these songs, we get lost in the dusty fumes. We get taken by these stories of littered and bum hearts. We are smitten with the ways that they warmly absorb us until it feels like this is where we started.
Streets of Laredo Official Site