We're pitted between the wall of a soaked stadium and the high of a smoked Saturday. One A.M. and rules no longer apply. My vision of the uprights is divided in two by the wooden bench which is acting as a bed. Sleep is a hundred yards away as raindrops cascade my face. Lying in puddles, daydreaming in the night, and counting the hours till sunset... is this what makes friends friends? This stadium is another world when darkness hits midnight. The "athletes" and "heroes" are now cowering under their blankets from the thunder that is to come. It's not so much the rain that is holding sleep back anymore, but the so many memories held at this venue.
For a hellmouth, this town has had so many good moments.
For a town that has had so many good moments, this is a hellmouth.
I'm waiting for this field to open up, and suck us and our pasts through the zero in the fifty yard line. The scoreboard will shoot up in surprise, screaming the score.. "rockland - 1, rejects - 0".