At Ground Newpany

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Sinking fast and hard,
My conscience has turned to anchor,
What were once drops will flood the world.
Not a thing to my name so minus whatever,
Or the vultures may dine well tonight.
Nostalgia, what a poor state of mind.
Wind up,
Set sail towards the golden arch and promised land,
Cracks in the steering,
Creeks in the floorboards,
Adrenaline has taken over and that,
I will drown in.
The sky wears a black hole trench coat,
There's a lantern on main deck,
Where the covet compass will guide you,
Surf's up!
You best brace yourself.

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