Train Song.

Brand me a hipster, but never black

For that’s too heavy of a cross to bear

And I never had a choice anyways

So I slide sideways, between the

Color lines and bleed red,

White and blues. But this isn’t

News to You.

Knew that beyond the purview

Of us, there was no justice

Because we would just reincarante

Eachother, and just have more blues to sing

Efterklang, our modern drift

Had the draft of Slyvia Plath’s  baked head

For there were only carcasses in our wake

Up, we ran until our soles bled

Existential dread fed the mouths of babes

Watch us fall out of the zeitgeist

Swerve through purgatory

Middle passage immune system

Systematic theology Calvin

Klein Jeans ran through our

Family tree

Trunkated  wisdom, pulled out

And abandoned in emptied parking lots

Where tricks pull out tracks near the

Train.