Addicted to bass, I stare into the space left by the car in front of me
Through the windshield tinted by necessary shades I see the horizon skyline
Postcard buildings turn into towering walls of downtown valleys
I am enclosed in black steel and dark glass, protected from the noisy crush of frenetic activity, the radio provides the soundtrack to the escape from humanity
I drive down an alley tattooed with graffiti, a man stares up at the big truck from a mattress stained with reality
He realizes his life will end shortly if he doesn't move his ass, and scrambles frantically
Bump, bump, bump...bump, the tires crush the pad and I yell sorry
Responded to with a middle finger accompanied by a voice slurred by a mickey of whisky
The Hemi growls, and a ethereal voice carries me through the city, rolling with the beats of a chill melody
The dream comes to an abrupt stop, I have to park and exit my truck into the roiling kinetic energy of the city of prosperity and poverty
These two titans, one spiffy, the other slovenly, battle constantly
The wealthy retreat in their Benz's and Bentleys, and cower in their penthouses, and seaside villas dodging the relentless attack of the down and outers and their supporters, "This is villainy, cold and calculating in their ignorance of DTES's state of emergency!"
I feel the pain, and despise the gain, but am I complicit in it, as I roll through in my black and shiny....
Ram, happy in my "middle class" serenity - just as long as my satellite radio maintains its connectivity?
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