Grey street corner
A frozen room
Lonely bed
A dying moon
...
Veins bulge upwards out of your rugged hands, criss-crossed with lines,
Pumping hardworking blood around your body,
Your blood, my blood,
...
Mohawk standing like a battle flag,
Darkened eyeliner, metal-cut nose and lips,
Flesh carved into words exposed on his bare back,
Low slung belt, with chain heavy jeans.
...
Shot down at dawn
The dew still plucking at the mud.
The lions stare
...
and burn, burn,
to the smoke in the sky,
burn, burn, burn,
the night’s a wolf’s cry,
...
I Lie. On the dusty floor.
Stretched out, while those around me
Cheer. Or cry. Or scream.
And raise their fists aloft.
...
o why o why o why,
i really want to die,
im gonna try to fly
to fly into the sky
...