He sits and watches it all flash by in a freeze-frame instance – beautiful and undeniably just
This intrepid eye, cloaked in rather precarious gold, will always find a surefire way
To see then so much as let him say all of these rather magical things, a mesmerising concoction of its own high-wired device – spliced twice as nice
A conversation devotedly marvelling between the haywire mind and these two glass-framed steering wheels which always find a delightful way out of here
Only ever technically speaking, of course
Bringing folklore right to this age-old table, a dashboard of otherworldly and he earned it
He will scoop up a poetic cigarette and fret time again, something which does come from a lonesome lifetime about to be soothed by quick-fire puffs here, there and everywhere of copious, retold regret
Exhausting in a once again rather technical manner of speaking
Perhaps, he relents, just meant to be this way

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