Its on rails, the whole ride|
and I'm not strapped in.
You know that scary place?
That awful place, right
between mania and depression.
Strobe shadows and blonde, the
pull up the slope, the build up.
Knowing you can't trust your own
your own sense of up and down,
the un-amusement park, six-flags over
The thoughts, my God you can't know.
Trying to convey this is more than difficult.
It is such an unpleasant task,
a maddening chore, like running in quick
hip deep in thick shit.
Want to ride along do you?
The only thing you want is the
Gs, not the elevation up or down,
a plateau, some kind of level,
I just need to know I will stay
in the seat, that's all I want, not the
wind, not the movement, just give me
those stomach clenching Gs, let my ass
stay on the seat.
Feeling like a fucking crazy
because it rolled on you,
inverted and hurtling, and
puckering like a suction cup
to hang on by the cheeks
And afraid its not enough
this time. Ain't no brakes, not on
This bitch, and it
will go around again.
The scenery changes, but not the ride
and I'm praying somehow
it'll pass if I don't crash
or fall first,
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