At the End of Pine Cones

alone
he slams on his pedal hard
alone
he laughs in the face of death
alone
he can no longer cleanse his bullshit
alone
he drips down
the pipes into the sewer
the air fills with ashes
and they land on our car
welcome to los angeles
where everything burns
and as the sun sets
and we dress up
and venture out to our make believe
story telling bullshit
that was your own fault
you knew what you knew
but deny
deep down
inside of you
the truth racks your brain
but you turn a cold shoulder
and routine follow your routine
the death of us
shall be you
for you know exactly
exactly your first thought
is what you should follow
i know
you know
but you don't want to move
so i make moves
and look like shit in others eyes
if you don't take part in the game
you can never lose
never be hurt
never be anything
except what you want to