tallisman

Not gonna turn out well…

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….