lisdexicwriter

Wild windless night


A storm is brewing
In this city of lost angels
where we rack up bum checks
to pay for dreams we were sold
dreams of gold that turn to rust
long before the last payment is made

A storm is brewing
We're tired of the same old crap
we want more
we want less
we want anything to make us feel alive

A storm is brewing
brothers and sisters
in town with now cellars to hide in
they took our air
our art
our souls
and gave us worthless trinkets

A storm is brewing
on this dead still night

Time has come to take what is ours
and leave the rest
let the vultures feed on the carrion
of their broken shallow dreams

A storm is brewing.