Full Moon Chronicle I
Under full moon with a clouded shroud,
Time to disengage from the here and now -
Divine solitude of mine.
Nobody pays me notice out here, as I like it,
Trying to run the yellow lights,
Careful of the blue-
But the red lights coming on too fast,
Bitter disappointment.
Alas, my foot likes to hit the gas
On the chorus of Brownsville Girl.
In tune with the moon Im gonna drive
A couple hours straight through tonight;
I deserve it, but my gas gauge says otherwise.
Damning my car and the gas pump to hell,
Cycling down with a tired eye
Well deserved from a brisk nights drive,
In the parking lot with a ripped wing,
No one hears me sing,
Turning off the engine
For my octane intervention.
A trip inside is whats required.
A tired attendant points to the back,
And amid a dirty bathrooms tack
And the condom machine -
Fruit flavored things,
And rust stain rings,
The cracked mirror brings
A glimpse of the girl
Come back to life.
~Darkling Plain, Sept. 6, 2006
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