Lock Up the Wolves Two
I listen to my words but they fall far below
I'll never make the same mistake
carnality lifting through the extreme
blinded decorum of harmful interludes
there isa cave with evil twisted ways
caverns filled with darkened conclaves
dark viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off side
the highway indian spirit burning riding on Hell's highway
the sound of a motorcycle engine exploding
a sound of laughter beneath it's swell
a highway to Hell
decorated plains headed as nomadic tribesmen
darkened caverns of high volume of steel
in the darkened dungeon in the pit of death
when no one cares or gives a ****
the motorcycle gang was coming out swinging
a crowd of social anarchy in the midst
the less a man thinks then so he does
we sweep things underneath the rug
here we celebrate in a new caged swing
the way the fallen apart at the seams
the wolves were in a tragic scene
things falling apart at the seams
beady little eyes with blood off side
locked away in the solitude of the moment
caged barbaric conquest through the battle
black smoke of radiating heavy metal exploits
Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2018
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