Zooming down over the back of another
gravel skinned road viper...
Squadrons of winged scavengers vigil over all the dust
barbed wire... where death is their oasis among hot and
desolate desert horizons, until sunset bleeds above a lonesome
highway of silhouettes and ghost stories.........
As headlights shine beyond into nowhere
the cranks grinding away at the gearshifts of sanity as
it keeps charging madly over white lines that flash
by and under... With acceleration that jolts up as
sudden as a boost of cocaine or the rush of being "lovestruck"
Clutching on an iron scepter, as a wheel becomes his reigns,
As legendary as the road kings that ruled
by a leather cloaked fist, he steers into the nightfall
with scars running deeper than the ink across his knuckles...
His pulse races with adrenaline, like a throttle on set of pistons...
Tobacco smoke streams waving like banners of faded glory on the mast
of the reapers harvest blade.... the moonlight lulls in dreams
of lust and rebelion.. An iron Dracula out on the prowl with a thirst for
gasoline... rumbling a crescendo as if it were a coming storm,
For the devil's dragstrip takes no prisoners.. Numbered among the fallen
in a hellbound caravan, who's always drifting for ...