Passing too fast in a moment gripped tight,
A motorcycle gang enlightens night,
Consuming in arc flash, their full amount
Huffing fine intake of the bellows blow
We railed the ripe backside of snow-white dawn
Future fuel chopped, consumed, and ever-gone
Running rich the present in bright hot glow
A one step dance between two too-bright rooms
Stress joints, stress threads, the buttons of your blouse
Spin tight, catch serpent tail, thrust into mouth
wingtip turbulence, obscure chaos whirls, blooms
Cruel math we can't escape, reality of metallurge
At any given rate, everything has it's own portion to burn
