Fill It In

He's got a short deck, mostly abominable

Long neck, physiological

Sound check, microphone's audible

Breakneck speed of an automobile

Black eyes pierce like an iron knife

Most guys want to come back to life

He's high, caught in the act of flight

His crime? Robbing the world of light

Short fuse bound to go off sometime

Don't lose or you got no reason or rhyme

This music's what keeps him sane and alive

Old news, now he's about to dive

Fast brain, ticks like a metronome

Next train, tracks made of skin and bone

Cold rain burns like a rusty stove

Sharp pain leading away from home

Blue blood rumbling through his veins

High floods coming to drown his name

Love, is just love, is just love, that's the game

But that's all you know and so all you can claim

Reviews

[Farmgirl]

Brilliant I find myself traveling in this
Way to keep a mind immersed of what you speak upon