The She

The She
Ripped off
You smoked the Bible
Rolled it up
Your last breath
Hot on my back
You get started
Try to get somewhere
You move so slow
You're not even here

Dear traveller
It's my death
My rhythm
My arithmetic
I got used to
Nobody riding in the back
Sorrow blowing through the vents
I'm over Houston
You're over the night we met
Over the night we met
Dear traveller
The she
Scared electricity
Where no human
Carries a map
You say you gotta burn to shine
But every prism unwinds
A road to ruin
And this ticket's mine
Dear traveller