TITLE: The Strip
RATING: PG-13...just because I said bitch.
CATEGORIES: Poetry...and general nonsense. Is that a category?
SUMMARY: Uh....yeah, that's about it.
A/N: Oh, I dunno what the hell this is. Sorta maybe Warrick-centric, and sorta maybe just...oh just read it. I'd just watched 'Cool Change' when I finished writing it, you know, where Sara is first introduced, and I was feeling sorry for him and who Sara has become and...yeah. My poetry...well, it sorta reflects the inner workings of my head. Meaning it makes no sense at all.
it's a late night Vegas homicide, the loved, the lost, the cyanide
The streets they blaze with lights and sound, the sweat the laughter all around
And the beat, the pulse it swallows up the guilt, the pain, the death.
So numb your fears to fall the faster, tonight alone you are the master.
Commander of the underbelly of the darkest dark.
Hope you've made the deal, laid your bets, spot in the park.
He owns you and you kill him and he bleeds you further still
It's a pressure and a joy, the soul release to push your will.
It's a midnight Vegas murder here, the flesh is fallen, victim clear.
It's a bitch to know the truth would lie, the hopes and dreams would fail and die.
The blood drips slowly down the drain, they say it numbs the endless pain.
But all it does is sharpen all the needles in each breath.
So run the strip to throw the money, gin slides down the throat like honey
Burns and soothes the deepest embers
Memories the sweetest members
Spirit broken, hold the token, thousand dollar chip is played.
Go or hold, it begs the question, always you will wish you'd stayed.
So yeah, it's a late night Vegas homicide, of the loved, the lost, and the cyanide
And The streets they blaze with lights and sound, see the sweat and laughter all around
But the beat, the pulse, wont take anything you've got.
It reminds you of the running and the bleeding, and the last, the final shot.
Cuz it's a late night Vegas homicide, with the loved, the lost, the cyanide
Oh, The streets they blaze with lights and sound, burn with sweat or laughter of the found
But the beat, the pulse it swallows everything you want.
Welcome to the Strip, the newest grave you haunt.
So...yeah...that's that...be nice please...Thanks for Reading!