Three Hundred Miles for Five Feet of Skin

These highway lines burn designs into my focused eyes

eyes focused on a sight that blankets my mind

a blanket of where only comfort resides


This comfort, it's meaning, drowns my perception

a perception so intriguing, I'm sinking in it's inception

sinking into an origin of a place I call home


The strings they wind into my view, playing a tune, a harmony or few

a tune who's intentions are to woo

woo a soul who can read between two


Between two lies a smoke, a fag for a choke

a choke suspended over a tick of time

the time it takes to ride the line


Lines they shape the parallel veins

these veins they maneuver the cold black train

a train that sails under the dark stared sky


Stars, they ignite a path to use

a path that invents images of a burning truth

truth thats destiny was bare, only to lose 


This destiny, it's patentince, bonds with the rhetorical hands

hands that have been welded with time

time that flees, always leaving behind


Flee, they do, these anamneses, from my vision

vision that is now free from the dash's persistance

a persistance that leads me back to a familiar embrace



Three hundred miles for five feet of skin

skin steady, waiting to say hi once again


"Hi," he grins.