Slow and steady, in dark fumes stuck
between hot wheels making mirrors on the ground.
There’s movement, then none at all, just
A constant snail’s pace of heavy metal bodies,
Trudging towards some place we all need to be.
Where are we heading? What are we doing?
Where is this road leading us in single file?
Why are we in our dreary speed machines,
Windows open, blasting out Jesus man tune’s and
Audio “how to be’s…” offering concise, overstuffed
Grunts of assurance and guarantee’s of the destination?
My own talking black box is stuck in a loop all music verse,
“Sympathy for The Devil” drawing stares and there are eye rolls after,
While I help Queen scream his lines; “He’s lost his mind”, they say.
Oh yes;“I want to break free from your lies. You’re self satisfied,
I don’t need you. I’ve got to break free!” I sing and I want this.
Oh God knows too, he knows I want to leave this endless stretch
Of deep black going miles, for days in unendingly blinding sun.
I want off this road that never twists or turns while the sun plants burns my
Face as kisses. But we’re going, and stopping, metal going and stopping.
We go then stop like waves caught between other wave motions,
Mechanical kick backs with no going back; Feeling boxed in, repeating scenery,
Living in slow motion. Moving then not moving until someone is pushed of the road
By the devious Devil’ antics, sometimes to pick up next stage prizes to stuff already boxed
Metal spaces with, or to blow tired coughs from exhausts that mainly confuse those behind,
Leading them to a madness that they need to break free from, just so they park
Now that they don’t need this; maybe they will become Jesus man’s guide to his way after. Maybe he’ll end his drive to the way.
But what is the way? What is this way we should know? Someone please tell
Me now ‘cause I need it. I just need to know.
|| LEBRECHT ||
|| THE METAPHYSICAL||