He drives the car with concentration
One thing he can do is drive
Speed limits are for the general population
Fast cars make him feel alive
Today he’s stolen a sporty Ford
If such a thing exists
Blue lights flash behind, accelerater floored
Adrenaline flows with the risks
Hits the A road doing a ton or more
Police car closing in the rear
Narrowly misses a four by four
It’s driver frozen in fear
Takes the corner much to fast
The tyres lose their grip
Car spins, the world whirls past
Suddenly feels it flip
The world full of noise and sparks
Amidst the petrol smell
A voice inside his head remarks
This ain’t gonna turn out well…
He stands outside his house again
Three years he’d spent in a prison cell
Before that six months in pain
On which he’d rather not dwell
In all that time he’d not seen his wife
She hadn’t been or sent a note
Just once to tell him get out of her life
And that was all she wrote
So he waited in trepidation
As he’d knocked upon the door
He swallowed hard in the expectation
That she wouldn’t want him anymore
The man who answered was not known
He told him he had just moved in there
The previous tenant, no address, no phone
Didn’t know who, didn’t know where
He grabbed the man by the throat in rage
Pushed him so he fell
Felt a voice inside his head engage
This ain’t gonna turn out well…
Now I’m old and look back in sorrow
At the mistakes I have done
There’s no future in tomorrow
My time is nearly come
Soon I face my final judgments
A choice between heaven and hell
A voice inside my head laments
This ain’t gonna turn out well….