Senses tell me things,
money gives me rings,
I walk into the dusk,
through the music,
through the thunder,
I eat with the gods,
sharing pickles with the fellows on the corners of distant subways, waiting for her,
waiting for her
through the music
through the thunder
through the lightning
the darkening anger that sits on stools painted rouge
like the colour of her skin the way I left her
- the way I touched her
through the music
through the thunder
through the sickening crack of helmet into metal
through the burning screaming flesh that singed on a desert highway through the music
through the thunder
through death, the last enemy
through life, the last frenemy.
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