The sport highway clogs my balance
A metal tears?
A pedal steers
The weight of the vinyl smells
Melting grooves that will soon make a tune.
A tune that May be sweet to the ears
Or bleak to the fears
The optional bench cries
Under and into the man who sits
On its throne
Both the bench and the man
wanting so badly to be alone
In mourn
Wanting and waiting
For something great to be born
Another addict shelves the staggering sentence
As he falls into the long sleep of death
The sunrise boot laughs
As he kicks my nightowl ass
The textbook race expires
As the new dying you tires
nature flashes
As the true lie clashes
The overpriced mouth
Splashes
And lashes
Out
Spilling
And Killing
And willing to
Do
Whatever It is is you need to do
Because you only care about you
skin loves fever 