"Road Closed"
It says, the road ahead is closed. I begged them to go...
“We’re rebels!" Remember when we used to sled in the snow?
trekked the highest slopes! dope, we went head first in the cold
No fucks giving besides curfew, hot soups, bedroom with low
Lighting glowing on the dresser next to the pile of clothes.....
....at least that’s how I imagined it so
To sum up our respective positions: Vicarious living.
they had parents and siblings. Gifts, trinkets a parent could give,
but would dare to be different. I was the “dare” they were seeking
A street urchin seeking purpose with a need for worth
In them, I see clean sheets, peaceful sleep, leaves that's turning
In me they saw mean streaks, ravines, creeks, a “me” that’s lurking
“Til the end” was our motto though it’s gotten us in hot water
As the sun sets, time crept - the shadows grew a lot darker.
Admiring actors and authors, James Dean: god and martyr
Leather jackets, rugby jeans, collared cropped and choppers
Quite often bartering death, to adopt his spirit
I was the boss and leader .. tonight, our cause had limits
we never saw through the mist, swerving along the rocky cliff
Teens with heart but intoxicants made us gods of this..
Domain, cold rain made it easy to hydroplane off the stretch
The road says closed, I begged them to “go — home."
Back to their lighted porch, fire, warmth, pile of old clothes
that other side of the road, the moms and dads, warm bed
I never had a mom and dad. Never had any warm threads
was born dead, Not literally, metaphors can express the hours left
As we spun and flipped, the sun eclipsed against the cloudy ledge
sound of death, rather peaceful. Me? finally in a clean room,
with a shroud and bed. Them? they got to live and die on the edge