Sharp Talons, Overlords

The empty highway, from Rachel’s cross to Rachel Nevada.

Lights in the sky, sharp talons of fighters, or reptile overlords.

I have bad dreams when I sleep while traveling, corrosive fear.

Rachel started a chain reaction, but sacred nukes burn the sky.

 

I drive, sacred songs on a distant frequency, blasphemous preacher.

The lights are interdimensional ships, they’ll take me for a ride now.

Rachel Nevada is where the lights come out, and I know no saints.

Rachel is a martyr, now less than human, just a recruitment poster.

 

Don’t sleep; they steal your soul in your dreams, the one hope of peace.

I’m missing time, wake to engine idling, a preacher on the radio ranting.

Three hours, outside of Rachel Nevada, knowing I’ve come to burn down.

Rachel will turn her back, as I’m unimpressed with faith, wanting to dream.

 

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