The road was winding it was something it never had
Love like a pedestrian came across telling me to leave fads and clads of Harlem Renaissance
Clutches of the evening cars were watching the scenery like the emollient evening sanctity
Clasps of the automobiles catching the stars too lost to fall from the cliff of subliminal fantasy
Gladly, I'm clapping forward untoward tomorrow is today
The story never ends, as long as it has a road and changes like flat tires like fickle women
Bouldered on the broken arrows of Cupid's quiver, stealing a glance across her shoulder
Changing the tears into wine, changing gears from behind such is the work of backstreet bromance
Street romance is full of plastic love, polluting the heart and the road too
The road was killing me and you, like a Scotsman in his kilt singing from hailing hills elegies
Snowstorms  and memories of lonesomeness grow cold when love brings the luminous light to the numinous ones
I wake up after all these dreams are put to a conclusion with drugs
Dinner sleep comes after afternoon, noon lies with the dawn
Drugs dawn on me, and it's already dinner
I've slept in the anarchy and chaos, afraid of my own thoughts
Sleep comes like a pacing sea, which you can hear in the darling darkness
Puerile cries, mewling, and puking follows life, or it can
I'm unsure and that makes me confused with sickness