107 – Fireball
No fucking way
He would live
A quiet life.
Loud engines,
Loud guitars.
Loud demonstrations
For lost causes.
Loud life,
Loud sex,
Loud death?
A shooting star,
Across the bow
Of “good behavior”.
No heavenly gates
Waiting at the end
If this road.
Who needs salvation
When you’re a smiling fireball
On a collision course
With your own demons?
Faster, higher, louder.
Hell is just like heaven
After all.
Only, perhaps,
Less boring.
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