Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Mind explodes all over the windshield I always hated driving Big oak desk melts into ash under your feet I always loathed organization TV explodes into mushroom clouds Too much direct propaganda I always preferred moments in life when I was informed indirectly: a cowboy along the trail mentioned some bad weather up north could be heading this way. At these old cross roads What ya gonna do boy Life to the west love to the east Torn by the choices you make Can you live comfortably in the easy life Will you ever be able to live in the days of the eagle spirit Will you turn yellow as your liver crashes into the bourbon sea Your ship could catch fire Crash into the rocks of the coast with no lighthouse to be found Will you turn grey with a fake passport Fall dead of a heart attack with your child upon your shoulders Lose your mind in dementia as you straighten your tie You miss you wife intensely as you ***** last nights party on the bathroom floor All this idealism of fruitless existence really really hurts
0
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
I always hated driving
Mind explodes all over the windshield I always hated driving Big oak desk melts into ash under your feet I always loathed organization TV explodes into mushroom clouds Too much direct propaganda I always preferred moments in life when I was informed indirectly: a cowboy along the trail mentioned some bad weather up north could be heading this way. At these old cross roads What ya gonna do boy Life to the west love to the east Torn by the choices you make Can you live comfortably in the easy life Will you ever be able to live in the days of the eagle spirit Will you turn yellow as your liver crashes into the bourbon sea Your ship could catch fire Crash into the rocks of the coast with no lighthouse to be found Will you turn grey with a fake passport Fall dead of a heart attack with your child upon your shoulders Lose your mind in dementia as you straighten your tie You miss you wife intensely as you ***** last nights party on the bathroom floor All this idealism of fruitless existence really really hurts
bl-ledford
Written by
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem