Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Death Works Overtime

Late at night
Crusing the streets
Beer in one hand
Wheel in the other
With a smoke spilling ash
I take the corner
A little closer than not
Wheels over the curb
Trashcans lay in waste behind
Death you hear me?
I should over the music
Undone seatbelt dangling along
I don’t care any more
Everything has been taken
Nothing remains
Just a disgrace
Not needed any more
Death you hear me?
You better be working overtime
By the end of tonight
My soul will be ripe
For you to reap
Off this earth

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