driving at night on highways, or back roads, i don't know.
coming of age in cultural skepticism,
eyes wash out thirty-million lies unrecognized.
sad to say i've never woken up for a sunrise;
but i've seen scores of gold from nights too fucked to see straight.
whimpering car running out of gas,
gives way to whimpering wallet unfit for fueling americana's reverence for foreign tea.
i join the darkside in my crusade against life.
sick starving niggers < the price of a fetus = worth weight in gold.
i see roadkill decorating the lanes but we never slow down,
unless its our asses on the line.
but even if for one minute it was - could we forgo our rush to the pumps?

late summer nights just used to mean so much more.