beyond a city stagnant in the sun
running late for a show the rain will almost always spoil
to wind the windows down
and scream into the wind
over the engine and the asphalt
made for people to keep moving
by those who once knew how
we think too much
and need to change
the news is a tombstone we read into tears
and do nothing about
as the moss grows on the mirror
where the ego comes to die
once the tank is empty
and we give up on the highway
no more waiting for an exit
to another outlet mall
full of too much I don’t need
like the roar of the disaster at the door
peeking through the lock
I see the claws
and sit alone
hiding from the steps ahead
doing everything I shouldn’t
light like nobody I’ve been
full of answers without questions
without water
without change
counting satellites and seconds
til we’re waking up again.
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