Death Race

Pass me a needle I need a fix

To get me out of this

Tricky trick!

I’m speeding on weed, so

do I care.

Nobody loves me, even knows

I exist! Passing me by with evil stare

Pass me that needle I need a good fix

even though I’m on speed

flying so fast through space

who cares if I crash

I’ll be out of the race?

This world’s upside down

colourless with voices of thunder

giving me orders that I’m not just a number!

So pass me a cigarette, give me a drag

I’ve a tale to tell yea that isn’t half bad.

Now I’m spinning don’t know where

Who am I, truth is don’t really care.

Just a dead man walking silently alone

say a prayer, carve a stone.

Here lies someone we all don’t know!

Written by B R Walker

Copywriter UK 2017