“Highway”
This highway is endless, dark, long
a straight shot to hell or maybe paradise
80 miles per hour and half a tank of gas
asphalt gripped tight by rubber wheels
churning engine racing along this path
worn by wind, summer, rain, and fear
is he traveling to
or
is he running from
either way that pistol has its sights set
aiming to put a man down before dawn
his stare is endless, cold, straight
piercing the night like a knife through flesh
is that why he’s here?
foot heavy on the gas and head somewhere else…

Smoke rises around his head
swirling encircling clouding this room
bullets strewn about the table
tucked between Jack a gun and 6 lines of coke
cigarette number 7 burns on his lips
fixing to finish off that son a bitch
just like he done to his brother
left him hanging by his neck
held up by a guitar string on the chandelier
holed up on the outskirts of Vegas
pacing the floor with his .44
he oughta be ‘round here soon…

Closing the distance as the night ticks by
got a score that wont rest until its settled
turning tires terrorize dirt roads at such speeds
motive still bleeding on his chest
open container law is being broken by shotgun
windows down and stereo up
wind blows back his long, dark, black hair
this fight it started back in New York
and now it’s going to be finished in Vegas
the city of sin claims another soul
or two…

Peeking glances through closed blinds
wondering about the time time time
the deserted desert roads are still vacant
waiting impatiently for a Chevy to pull around
fixing to put that bastard in the ground
just like he did his lady friend
wearing through the soles of his shoes
and the wooden floor boards
can’t let himself fall asleep
he will wake up in hell with a hangover to match
got to stop drinking
he will be here soon…

Left here then left again
bending down narrow roads
it’s black as pitch and he’s got a busted headlight
time to collect all the debts owed in blood
a carcass represents the proof of payment
screech loud dirt crumbles under tires
the Chevy stops with a jerk and the hero steps out
and fires
the first shot…

Sound of a squealing stop alerts
him to the presence of a mortal enemy
and the crack of a .38 awakens the night
antagonist kicks open the door and lets loose
oh now it is time to think
could he be the protagonist
decisions decisions who here is the victim
and who is the hero come to save the day
does it matter now anyway
isn’t survival the only way
kill or be killed kill or be killed
hear them bullets click against metal
and glass…

Firefight traps the night in lead
projectiles whizzing back and forth
a serve and a return this volley is deadly
deadlocked death grip dead sure deathtrap
pro and con empty chambers and magazines
each bullet more real than it seems
mortal wounds landed on both
bleeding they fall
grip tight to life even as it fades away
three cheers for sweet revenge
but who is exacting theirs on whom?
tend to their lacerations and their holes
and they both die on this desert field…
This highway is endless, cold, dark
A straight shot to hell or maybe paradise
Bullets strewn across the ground
Two bodies lying they’re breathing slow
Blood on the highway
Blood on the highway…

 
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