mirrored and stainless
the so called iron street,
where glass hits a new dimension
and wheels gain a new race,
where buildings divide and fall,
fall and divide,
where every man is alike- a form
of turbo acceleration.
Gripping my hat, I roll it over my head
and they eye me like a comical showoff,
twisting a smile at the corner
of their distorted mouths
“Ain’t funny” cause’ I am a rider
and this is a tough ride.
The city has been sleeping deep,
long, on the steel beds
like a dead
but here I come, to waste away the
to waste away the night
on my horse, wild.