There's an innocent displacement, a dreaming, and idols are perfect for a little girl's dreaming. They aren't real. They aren't the gas station attendant trying to lure you into the back of the service station, a paperboy trying to lure you into a tool shed, a friend's father trying to lure you into his car. Furthermore, they don't lure. Furthermore, they beckon, but like desert mirages.

The Flamethrowers