the drifter

on a long desert road

with no living soul

a distant voice is heard

of a machine that roars

two wheels & black in color

unafraid & unrestrained

a hopeless lover;

that refuses to give up.

drifting along the scorching sun

brighter than the sunshine

darker than the night

the drifter has no name & its hometown is unknown

we can see it right now, but soon it will be gone.

it journeys for a reason that shall not be revealed

it has no principles; it lies, cheats & steals

burning the rubber, it burns its past

runs over its demons, it turns to ash.

it forgets the faces of those along the way

but it remembers how it felt on each travelling day

some understand, some forget.

it is life, it is the living dead.

pedal to the metal, roaring engine engulfs flame

it is an artist; it refuses to chase fame.

an illusion, a delusion, a wonder, a candle.

a friend, a metal, a gang, a sound.

hear it yet? there, it comes around

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