cosmic roadkill

I was the cosmic roadkill.
the aftertaste of the black pill.
the agent of the end, pretending hope.
I was looking for some answers
in the pattern of the dancers
and forgot that I was hanging by a rope.

I was laying there, just bleeding,
while the killers kept on feeding
and the time had passed to cast the prudent stone.
I am not sure what I was doing
or what virtue I was pursuing
but I knew that I had ended up alone.

left for dead
all I said
was goodbye

I was picking up the pieces
of the show that never ceases
written out in words of pain and lust.
But the wind, it started blowing,
and experience had me knowing
that this was gonna end in solitude and dust.

I was the cosmic roadkill.
the aftertaste of the black pill.
the agent of the end, pretending hope.
I was looking for some answers
in the pattern of the dancers
and forgot that I was hanging by a rope.


William F. Devault. all rights reserved.