Walking on rings in gasoline boots, fifth and seven on my stride, the destination is close.
Celestial power from above lights my way, flutter of wings whispers on the breeze.
Dark poison from below coursing through my veins, edges getting blurry blending the lines.
A myriad of voices, a thousand and the same.
The journey isn’t over, its only just begun.
The pump itself aflame, tearing apart.
Windows to the souls ignited.
With golden wings they cool me,
Go on my son they said.
I take another step,
Its all inside my head.
Copyright © Master Jones