Death Drive

Lets go for a

Little

Drive down Death’s lane.

Got no car

Got no skill.

But I have got the desire

To roll down hill

And feel every bump

On your skin.

I want to get faster

The nearer

We get.

You can bail out

But I am going on.

I can’t drop it

The urge to purge

The wicked vicar inside me.

So you see, I can’t steer

My hand turns to jelly at the crucial

Clutch time.

But I’ll be fine.

 I will tumble all the way

Down

Into the cold, cold sea.