The Lost and the Delirious

A whole line up of cherry cars
Bright tattoos and wicked scars
The prize being the local whore
He grins and slams it to the floor

He approaches Dead Clown's Curve
Hits some oil, starts to swerve
Will never pass the coming dawn
Sixty seconds, and he's gone

The whore still hears his engine roar
Pulling up outside her door
It's rusted but she likes the ride
Even as she hits the brakes, begins to slide...