TMH — Hypnotic Vibes

Heat. Heat.
Near snakes on the white concrete.
The mirror shows a ghost I used to meet.
The silence breaks—and beast.
Hypnotic rhythm skips the we.
She asked me why the men I taste like chrome.
I told her some of us never make it home.
Die with arms of frequency unknown.
Hypnotic vibes—we ride it to the bone.
The base to be—the night to ride.