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by
Rick S. Hall
Metal
crushes, plastic scatters
Souls lay on asphalt, torn and shattered
Doctors judge what lays upon their table
Their feast begins, will you
end up able
You are lucky, so the story goes
Some doors now
open and others close
Insurance minions lay in vast groups
You
end up garbage on their back stoop
Judges pondered at your bleak
fate
You have to wonder if they were awake
So you sit and
sit in todays hot sun
Its a ghostly life that you have won
Tire
shod death on these black ribbons roar
The metal die is cast, and we
call for more
We who survive in this push and shove
Now
search through time for one to love
I must pray the Lord my soul
to keep
This hill I climb, must it be so steep
How long,
how long on black ribbon will metal fly
So many lost and still I cry
Metal crushes, plastic scatters
More souls on asphalt, torn
and shattered