In the Afterlife
A wicked wind blows
Through my weary bones
While others cast their stones
For I remain worn and weak
Through the violence
My hatred must leak
Blackness draws forth
Hollow and near
Into these dark gates
My car will steer
Breaking the chains
Flames roaring from the pipes
I will drive on into the dark night
While seeking my solace
In the afterlife
Written by author Joseph Adam Burchett 2/1/12
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