The pale left controls each fate
As the murky right creeps along the opposite side.
The plan is this: Move all pieces forward.
Six different path to cross space
And eliminate the enemy.

Will it be the rookie, charging in with no regard for consequence?
Perhaps the dark night will mount an assault;
The three step attack tramples targets.
What of the Bishop, the Man of Light?
It is his soul duty to shine in this world of darkness.
The Queen is the puppeteer in this game;
Her corrupted strings control all, even the King Himself
With almost no limits, she is a dangerous weapon.

There is no game without the King;
The figurehead determining who falls and who triumphs,
The arrogant fool who believes all are but pawns under him
Which do you choose,
Left or Right?

Birds chirp, the winds blow,
And as the sun sets, we give the day a bow.
Clean Colorado accommodates commoners from Lincoln's Land.
We've ditched the silt and the sand;
Stranded in a glimpse of a possible past, here I stand.

Elated by elevation, tranced by trepidation,
the group's gaze encounters a misty haze,
Followed by copious amounts of precipitation.
Pick up the pace; though we won't win the race
To the dry car and a full case.

Hell is the home of a heathen's heart;
Heaven holds promise a bright new start.
Existence on earth extends only for so long;
For now we're here, soon to be gone.

Early mornings shed light on a promising day;
Late nights cast spells we drunkenly obey
Perched in a chair by a growing fire,
the consuming flames ascend higher and higher.
Ignited embers blown astray,
Trails of smoke follow its prey.

Back on the highway.
Homeward bound, the only sounds
Are the stories and gestures that say
Not what we lost, but what we found.