Like a Car With No Breaks
Hear we go
again down that winedy road, which no one wants to admits it's
there. A little push was all it took and slowly but surely my
old car is speeding down this road over 100
miles an hour now, with out any breaks. Know-one knows I don't have
any anymore, nor do they see how fast I'm going.
I can't tell them for what would
they think of my car?
Sure some will say "That's
What didn't you hear me!
Is my reality so immense that you
can't possibly under stand it, or worse do you really not
Some might feel bad for this old
car, but will they help fix it?
My hands desperately reach-out and
try to grab on to a branch to stop my descent. To no avale they
slip though my grasp ripping apart and bruising my small fingers. And
now the upcoming strong branchs that I see pull away as I reach out, and
back off from
me as I cry.
So down it goes the winedy road.
Itís too dark to see were it exactly goes .
Oh by the way, the head lights on
this old peice of work don't work ether.
I don't know, I don't know , All
I do is that I can hear the crash of cold steel up ahead on this dark
steep winedy road.
cc Thursday, April 17, 1997