Written by: Johnathon Souders


A day to drive,
Coolant sunned,
Last leaves scattered,
On a pedal-fly, 
Ignition lust,
On mother-piston,
Pointed beams like bone fingers,
I sit upright alone,
Dark storm racing,
Lightening spoken to.
Weary of the voric-tendonces,
The telly I left,
From Demille's close-ups,
Of Towers steel rain,
Hand holding Jumpers,
The day of the terrorist tools,
At home I got car sick,
When I was a replay witness,
And our behooved king cow poke,
Started his info-spin,
Telling a child his dad would be ok,
It's a noise vio-licked.
Beget, to begot,
A day to drive,
Needing true air,radio off,
For the ones gone