Running down a windy road
Nowhere to hide nowhere to go
Looking behind try not to fall
Losing my mind from what I saw.

Wishing that hell would freeze over
Chasing me down a brick-built maze
Luck withers like four-leaf clovers
Strapped to the ground till fear is raised.

Caution meself for surprises
No one could know till one is made
Bitter the sane like some vices
Grip to a rope fall in the haze.

Something of worry smiled there
A thing not of a world like ours
Texture disturbed the raised neck hair
Grimacing from broken towers