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Michael McGuire
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Midnight Traffic
A green light against the expanding canvas of night,
My mind blanks on divinities of wrong and right,
The surge of the engine pulling me to some-somewhere,
Just as soon as you get use to being here you're heading there,
And the pull of that dream,
And the push of this steam,
Makes me feel like the loaded,
Sum of this scheme.
Don't be apart from me,
Be a part of me,
Midnight traffic,
Is just a whisper on my pillow.
Just the nothing of what it is craving what it could be,
The way my drop-dead thoughts try to force their opinion on me,
The way this world gets inside you like that drink you weren't going to take,
The principle of this pleasure is to glorify this ache,
And the trial of this trash,
And the stink of that cash,
Makes me feel the stock market,
Of my soul is gonna crash.
Don't be apart from me,
Be a part of me,
Midnight traffic,
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Is just the noise that fuels my silence.
And the sing of that song,
And the right of this wrong,
Makes me feel like my life,
Has been dying to long.
And the rule of that rain,
And the drug of this pain,
Make me feel like,
A vital part of the strain.
And the drop of this pace,
And the wreck of that race,
Makes me feel like the times,
Well put in my place.
And the hell in this flame,
And the guts in that game,
Makes me feel like a victim,
In a world with no shame.
Midnight traffic,
Haunts the avenues of my head.
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