Run On Black Gold Poem by Madrason .

In the night
the shadows dance
the light perchance
will pick up
things which
wont be seen
the night is a machine
pushed by belts
and run on black
gold as I am told
it is the time
for the beauty
and the beast
and lonely souls
to feast with the bold
who hold a purse
filled with Uncles hats
-follow the money
honey- push, push
it's a hunting-scene
for the lonesome
and for the Cold
just not enough
they wait still
for Aureum or
for king Cool
to full fill their
empty pool
-be longing-
belonging
nowhere.

Madrason 7 dec 2014