Author: King Krod von Bopper PM
The saint of travel in a car with a girl hell-bent on ending her lifeRated: Fiction T - English - Suspense - Words: 375 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 09-17-05 - id: 2009467
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Hanging from the rearview mirror
I'm hoping I can catch your eye
What is it that you see making you twitch
Well I hope its me because I have a message
Hell is just a joke but its where your going
Your obituary will be laughable if you keep this speed
Mrs. Joan Keller, what do I tell her?
When her daughter's painted on the street
With a tire iron for a spine?
Straining to stay on the dashboard at a hundred m-p-h
I'm watching you washing down your pills with whiskey
Wishing I could open my mouth to scream
For you to wash away your pain in a chemical peel
I'm stuck here swaying with you, carrying a sign
"Don't go to fast or I can't keep up"
Hell is just a joke but its where your headed
Your eulogy will be a lame late-night joke
Mrs. Joan Keller, what the hell do I tell her
When her daughter's a chalk line on the pavement
With a bloodstain for a smile?
Pasted to the back window as the speedometer tops out
I must not be the only one seeing the approaching tree
I can hear you breath steady and your heartbeat race
The r-p-ms jump and the radio sounds are julienned in the wind
Your determined stare is horrifyingly nonchalant
This car trip is just like the one you took last week
You stared into the devil's eyes as you brought his mother gifts
You're doing this to torture him and his perverse mind games
What will your mother think, not that you care at all anymore
Hell is just a two hundred mile an hour joke
Your epitaph will be a spit on your grave stone
Mother Joan Keller, what do want her to think of you?
When the only girl that's meant anything to her
Is split in two over the hood of her car?
With a steering wheel as a hip
The crash has happened
The glass has shattered
All your blood is covering me
And you just get up and walk away
Leaving me here, the saint of travel
And your longest journey, just begun