Holding the roadside with his stop sign
if you can´t control anything in the universe
put on the neon vest
moving and stopping the traffic
Cold southern dusk welcomes you into an empty house
Your home has become a game half played
some meal half eaten
some life half lived
Regrets and unresolved personal issues
sit like the crumpled neon jacket
It´s all waiting for the next failed relationship
The third beer seduction
The woe is me passionate embrace
The shuddering jerk back into your selfish sensitivities
The spirit level cracks and cries after hitting your last woman
Cutting the union´s throat a few degrees south of marriage
A few kilometers north of Dunedin
a few generations of domestic rifts´ legacy
secretly abusing and sabotaging
a possibly tolerable destiny
Away from common sense and the cops
indulge in and glorify rotten barley and hopps
Reversing into the street making love to your anger
putting surrounding common lives in danger
reversing into the future at break neck speeds
Violating everything except your perfect impunity
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