Run boy run the irons coming your way,
ride up the heights of your fallen pray.
Cloud your vision by the heights you do,
the iron's coming, it's hunting for you.
Run boy run and never do stop,
keep going till time makes you drop.
Get freedom to run by your side,
run till the iron has fallen and died.
Made of wood the song inspires the run,
Woodkid his music lets my mind have fun.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 5th, 2025 14:43
- Comment from author about the poem: Was listening to Woodkid and my mind spit this out.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
I have to say that this one puzzled me I had visions of a man with a nine iron chasing down the hill. I guess it could be iron man but I haven't followed the comics too much. Very interesting
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