Windshield plays the movie
Stretching sand its only feature
Burning asphalt resting place
To soul of man and creature.
Death is present everywhere
Wilted trees have often spoken
No one rarely makes it through
Alive, but burned and broken.
The mountain range is calling me
Clenched fist, I make my choice
A sacrifice to rock and sun
Loud scream but silent voice.
The path blazed now for decades
Ghostly footprints lead the way
Statistics stack against me
Outstretched hand demanding pay.
Wind cuts through my childhood
Sunlight has baked my dreams
I’ve headed off to Hollywood
Where no one’s what they seem.
Gutters filled with shattered life
That’s cleansed on rare occasion
The arid breath of Tinseltown
A kiss and favors, something more?
What is it that they need?
Turned key in darkened dungeon
Because no one rides for free.
The skeletons fill dressing rooms
Nightmares bring on the feast
There’s no amount of make-up
Thick enough to hide the beast.
The magic wands and mirrors
Hide the strings of guest and host
Although no one has spotted them
They’ve been removed in post.
Just like the man that I once knew
Just like my former life
One final breath to curse this place
My wrist accepts the knife.
Struck down like pins on Sunset
The collectors take their due
Drink blood of fallen masses
Just to entertain the few.
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