The blinding headlights in the rearview
The rhythmic sweep of the streetlights
The yellow
Glow
Of panic
My fence has rotted through
I slap
My face
To stay
Alert
The tarmac tributaries deliver all to dirt
Begging please no more media
Currency for true believers
Blood for these suckers
Unburdened by proof
Tall
Dark
And frozen to the spot
Where the gun went off
My truth is your loss
A few were on board
How would we know
A few were on board
How would we know