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Dynamite, Dust Storms, and the Devil Herself


Like desert rain, her visits were rare and announced by an ominous shadow of clouds on the horizon. Like a banshee, you never saw her until it was too late, and you were looking down the barrel of her Mauser. Like a yellow rose on the banks of red clay river, if you got too curious as to just how beautiful she was, she might pull you under and steal your breath.
As mean and devastating as a wild brush fire. As soft and sweet as the nectar of a honeysuckle.

(A writing mix where I'm always adding tracks that fit the mood/genre - mostly Southern Gothic/Rock/Folk with Alt Rock, Alt, & Avante Folk)

39 tracks
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