Horse with No Name A Gorillaz Short Fic by Sam
The trouble with the United States was that it was so bloody big. The former-colonists had so much space and they didn't have a clue what to do with it, so they clustered along the coasts and in between lay infinite nothingness. Long windy interstates through farmland that turned into dessert that no one in their right mind would give two sticks for. This was what Murdoc Niccals found himself starring at as he stood on the mid-western motel balcony, nursing a bottle of scotch.
The neon lights of the 'VACANCY' sign cast a tacky, pinkish-red glow over the scene as the bassist surveyed it