[Eviction]

Welcome to van lear

In 1947 he fabricated bare metal, the death penalty for what the black market sold.
No one believed the war stories he eventually told, coming from a half-hearted soul.
It’s kamikaze on the darkened road, especially when you’re the last target known,
He’s trying to stay above the clouds with no end goal, when the task started cold,
He ignored what was soon to unfold, as the hatred added up, mid-block, gridlocks,
Formed out of nowhere’ blood on dish cloths, multiple sources of DNA criss cross.
Death was hysterical like improv’ there’s more blood on his hands he has to rinse off.
If only his life was a sitcom, you can pull out a wrench from his toolbox to twist plots.
A horror flick you can binge watch’ he carried around that grudge like a gold necklace.
Above the clouds but he didn’t go alone, and he ain’t coming back until they both perish,
A life more gruesome in black & white, if you uncover the darkness there’s no merit.
An endeavor that’s heartless, until they bow down, and learn to respect the old relics.
He purchased the property in van lear, after the war, he could almost see through the bones.
Those hills in Kentucky is a piece for the soul’ the backroad only leads to the stones,
Carved initials from previous owners on that well’ interrupted by screams from the ghost.
Trying to breathe in the mold, with his longest commitment, being the deed to the home.
Trading everything for acreage without selling his soul’ there were moments when its bleak,
He saw a lot of shit when he was homeless because it was hopeless on the street.
He went from coping with the heat, broken to owning something he can open with a key.
He has been through hell and probably won’t realize there’s a rotten corpse floating in the creak.

He ignored the calm before the storm.

Like the welcome to van lear sign, forewarning transients, and a signal to watch the footprints.
Nothing left from the battle, except some memorabilia, and civil war coins got lost in Brooklyn.
Luggage from the battered veteran, go’s missing in flight, it’s what the thieves often look in.
He drove 20 miles, and passed that warning sign, he’s used to being told to dodge the bullet.
A coward would go back home, hide under sunsets, the path he would stagger through.
A panic area when he’s the intruder, the health risk when you ignore what’s bad for you.
It would take a savage crew to live in these catacombs, but that’s something we have to do.
Except we’re doing it alone, hanging from a noose like we’re trying to open a parachute.
He preferred to be up in the air looking down, crows passing by is what he heard all night.
When you lived on cloud 9, you learn to fly, when you’re in the sky you can’t be burned alive.
After retirement he earned the right, to stay inside, close windows; never let the curtains rise.
Blurry eyes on this slippery pasture he can cut through tension wire, with a Kershaw knife.
Plot holes begin with the crossbones, and end with the id tags that are taped to the john doe’s
I feel sorry for whoever has the job role, to throw them in the incinerator and not know..
The origin story of a lost soul, it’s like they let the hot coal burn until the furnace is hollow.
Those melted rocks are hard to swallow, enough to follow the body, right to the drop zone.
That’s how going back to van lear feels like, a fire pit that’s deadly when you go to touch.
When you lift up the tag to reveal the identity, that's how it feels like when you hold a grudge
Like you broke the clutch’ being in the sky gave him that stroke of luck, it’s what he overcome.
Paranoia was the smoking gun, it was like the furnace in the mortuary, whenever he opened up.
That horrendous horizon overlooking snapdragon’s, it’s an unforgiven highlight in a visitors reel.
He can only remember the thrill, the planes passing by is a familiar sound, he’s listening, still..
Living in this menacing field, when away from home his guard was down, missing his shield.
What he witnessed is real, what the innocent feel when trespassing on this sinister hill.

You're now leaving van lear.