One day we'll look back on this, and it will all seem funny - Bruce Springsteen

There's a dark cloud rising from the desert floor. I packed my bags and I'm heading straight into the storm. Gonna be a twister to blow everything down That ain't got the faith to stand its ground. Blow away the dreams that tear you apart, Blow away the dreams that break your heart. Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted.

When it rains, the moisture in the humid air blankets our town with the smell of damp coffee grounds wafting in from the Nescafé factory at the town’s eastern edge. I don’t like coffee but I like that smell. It’s comforting; it unites the town in a common sensory experience; it’s good industry, like the roaring rug mill that fills our ears, brings work and signals our town’s vitality. There is a place here — you can hear it, smell it — where people make lives, suffer pain, enjoy small pleasures, play baseball, die, make love, have kids, drink themselves drunk on spring nights and do their best to hold off the demons that seek to destroy us, our homes, our families, our town.

It's a fairytale so tragic, There's no prince to break the spell. I don't believe in magic, But for you I will, for you I will. If I'm a fool, I'll be a fool. Darlin' for you.