Escaping the Morning

On a greased jetbike through the graveyard
Past rocketing headstones upflung
Throttles a darkly malignant Death
Addicted to your rigid horror

Chrome leaking blood red lubrication
Unholy rubber scent of brimstone
Jawbone bursts hellfire leaking grimace
Calcified sin-stained cold bone fingers

Spitting gouts of acceleration
O’er  the grinning dead rolling in graves
Gunning the engine dusk dead to rights
Mad escape from the morn’s horizon

Old enamel clacking the refrain
Of a fearful self preservation
Drowned by hellhound howling of engine,
“Oh, this’ll be the death of myself!”

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