Four On the Floor

Racing with the forces trying to keep ahead; Missed some turns a while ago going straight instead. The ghosts are out there watching shooting balls of fire; I can see them as I’m passing singing like a choir. The crock is shedding tears but its laughing liker a clown Its face is in the windshield and I’m trying to run it down. Don’t know much about a mother but life sure qualifies; And you can keep those one room boxes down here in these mires. Can’t imagine dropping anchor but sometimes I’ve slowed down; Mostly when locked in loves embrace and listening for that sound. Ahead I think I see it, an up and coming light But it’s probably just the daylight that passes out the night