In sliproads, cat's eyes glint at us and guide
to follow sleepy, falling out of cars
blood splashed asphalt stinks of oil and pride
and the dirty brass of fully loaded bars
a tarmac adam, jester of the dust,
fades from utter-all like ancient scars.
Your heavy load of young and artless lust
tore up tarmac on cremated tyres,
leaving a blister, the world readjusts
without you. With speed of nuclear fire
the rust scurf falls as pocks of flame
burning the world like a funeral pyre.
The damned are wiser with their hot rod games
now they are cold, metal cool and ripped,
a young man's fender-bender finally tamed
by lost control; a power-down, headlamp dipped,
finger-bone exposed, blue-lip on cigars,
exploded ash and the whole world flipped
and the petals rain outwards like shooting stars
as we follow, sleepy, falling out of cars.
