The scorched earth cherishes the Sun,
as it boils the hot sand and burns.
In this no man's land,
only one man stands.
And as the engine revs through
the harsh, hot, heat of the desert,
with not a care in the world
he leaves all others to bite the dust.
Faster than the speed of mind,
into the endless void,
where even the Sun fears to tread,
the nomad speeds through in his might.
I can see it coming from afar,
like a supernova, distant star
ready to explode and scar,
and smoke out like a burnt cigar.
A death contract on the windshield,
it rushes towards me,
and signs the deed with my blood,
like many others before me it took.
The skeleton inside shifts gears,
and charges through the barren heart
into the city-scape, home of cold hearts,
to fill it's hunger, to bring their end.
SOURCE: 1