Paper or plastic
Doesn't matter it's all fake
Smoking joint or glass of beer
Doesn't matter it gets me out of here
Lover in the back seat
Don't need any love
Searching for feeling, feeling numb
Don't need any love, because it's dumb
Pale lady shines in the headlight
Cold air makes the goosebumps pop
Pulling her hair through the night
Skin on skin until I say stop
Aspirin or whiskey
Doesn't matter, all does the same
Laughing because I feel displaced
Debating to finish on the back or the face
She is now getting tired
I don't want to go home
Dropping her off, never see her again
I don't want to go home, wounds don't mend
Hollow man tries to fill his hole
Thinking of the pale lady in the headlight
Takes another swig to find his soul
But the grip of devil is so tight
YOU ARE READING
The Atrium
PoetryAs the river of life flows right through, collecting at the delta towards the Atrium of my soul
