Driving fast down Emma Lane,
With absent pause and ill refrain,
Your fingers numb and pull away,
Into the crowded streets you stray,
Before the moment strikes you down,
The blood now spills upon the ground

Spits and sputters,
Under breath, as he mutters,
"Something near the window shutters
let's me speak with all the others",
Another ghost would have a word,
Before his mind begins to flutter

Angel scraping flaking skin,
The peeling walls are closing in,
Take a dose of spinning sin,
Feel your bounty swell within

Approaching now its final plunge,
Absorbing all the excess grunge,
The merriment of vice expunged,
To hell on Earth, a final lunge,
Then calm...