I crossed the place where heaven meets all whores
Where gold of the earth seared a hole in my head
Where I'd be foolish to trust anything
And irony makes heroes of cowards
Where the only currency is dust
And the only language understood is noise
Everyone had left but were content to stay
As a part of the hollow, neon nightmare.
The First Frontier will make me whole.
It's just enough to ward off want.
I believe that my life is not my own.
I believe that my story is a wretched one.
But it's important to laugh as though I'm free;
To live by occurrence rather than thought.
© Dull Lead 2013