With This Fire, We Can Dance

the bar is a machine,
very slow to start up,
as the gears wind,
and the smell of molten metal fills the air.
we wait,
for the connection to show up
and provide us with
cocaine,
amphetamines,
opiates,
anything we want.
she makes the rounds
cute homely looking girl
with blond curly hair
and deep blue eyes.
i score and hold on to it,
i'm not in the mood for sharing tonight,
but the bald guy next to me,
in the track suit,
knows better.
so we meet in the bathroom
and do key lines of precious,
we are high
and looking for a lay,
i leave him,
to head outside
where the air is crisp and pure.
cocaine makes me want to write
to all those sorry fucks
who stayed at home.
i write for the lonely,
the deviants
the desolate pricks
who were left with nothing
but their own sorrow thoughts.
i pour my self a whiskey
and drink to the mighty
drink to the losers
drink to you.
listen
my men
who fight against everything
who think that their hearts are right
in every undesirable right.
be patient you assholes,
be calm,
the whole reason you suffer yourselves
is to score that one pure block of gold.
all these other slime
are a process
a test
to see how much you'll take it
how far you'll go.
nothing is easy for you
everything does not fall into place
but we've got to keep going.
even if the one right now,
throws dirt in your face.
be that guy
who changes everything.
you can do it.
we
have
to.