- Joined
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It’s 2:45am, Thursday night, your junior year at a major university in 1993 on the first floor of your frat house. You reek of Marlboro reds and cool water cologne. You’re in your relaxed-fit wranglers, steel-toed red wings, and an oversized white cotton vneck undershirt. You place your keys and your checkbook-length wallet on the table next to the digital answering machine. There are no messages. You’re having a quarter-life crisis and listening to one song on repeat on your cd shelf unit... in the dark... by the faint glow of a blacklight... in a drunken, sullen haze. What’s the song?