Tom and I were chain smoking dope and drinking whiskey and writing a song about a broken radio and John Prine and I guess we were in it too somewhere. Tom's wife Kim walked into the room and told us to keep it down. I'm trying to talk to my mother on the phone and by the way you guys sound like shit, just like you always do, she said. She ain't wrong, I said. But she's a bitch, Tom added. Kim came back. I heard that, she said and took the joint out of Tom's hand. We're one line away from a classic, Tom said and he wasn't wrong, and we still are twenty-five years down the line.
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