PRAISE THE VOID

What a relief
No one can see
There’s a heavy-lidded window
Closing off a room
I gotta leave

Sun-faded sign
Hillside Hotel
Everyone is severed
From something or another
Gotta move on

The twilight
A warm wind blowing
Down the blue-black highway

Oh, how it gave
Below the weight
The town laid waste
We’re better off anyway

What a relief
Sweet disbelief
Driving from the wreckage
The rigid valley left behind
High into the hills where we can see

Praise the Void

©2016 BRYAN JOHN APPLEBY LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.