Evening Bus Ride Through the Hills on a Birthday

I want to fist fight the night
Over an ideal.
It can be love, truth or beauty;
as long as it’s wearing a trilby.
Youth burns, and claws while it dies.
Yet, laughing, or crying in some style,
you and I flick sparks into a valley of beautiful amber.

Love me and let me go before reality eats me alive.
But first, let’s fuck like we love each other.
Fuck like no one’s ever thought of it before.
Fuck till we scar each other.
Fuck so we can’t remember when our skin didn’t burn so much,
From the sun, or a greedy touch.

I don’t want to be an old man, lusting and craving.
Still loving, and stinking your ass with my bitter tongue.
I want to tear out my throat with ideals
and pain
and drumbeats
and every lie that’s ever been sung.
Then throw it into the eternal sunset for things that make no sense to the senseless.
If I die a bad man, let me die with cool boots on
and a passion that could not die with me,
because it had to die young

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