Jim Morrison’s Killer On The Road
I might be Jim Morrison’s
Killer on the road,
A derelict you’d like to forget,
But don’t look into my eyes,
You might become hypnotized.
You think I’m too dirty
For your side of town,
But, baby, I might be the man
Who burns you down.
I’m schizophrenic and firecracker high,
I’m not scared to live
And I’m not scared to die,
I’m carrying my pistol
And I’m carrying my knife
I’m dropping my wallet,
I don’t value this life,
I can taste blood
In the smoky air
That drifts through the night,
There’s nothing I want to see,
I’ve got a fever in my eyes,
I’m going to paint a violent masterpiece
The day they label me deceased,
I’ve got a heart like morgue,
I don’t worry about nothing anymore,
I think I’ll tattoo my neck
With rusty razorblades,
Don’t look in my direction
Unless you’re wearing shades,
I might be the man, baby,
Who burns you down.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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