trap.
01-31-2013, 07:45 PM
Psychlone:
Topic: A Storm Tracker
Redefining the way we’ll later classify hurricanes
Passerbys heard the rain splash inside of a Burger King
I was first to bring equipment and some heavy machinery
To capture the events that would sever the scenery
Bad weather always seemed to cause disturbance and panic
This version’s manic confirming the laws of thermodynamics
I managed to find a vantage for the storm of the century
Advantage debris, defenseless, I’m sworn to adventure’s creed,
Mother Nature’s vengeance descended, a tremendous steed
To smother this chaser with a kiss meant to upend a tree
Will entropy eventually retreat like the men who flee?
Essentially, unless I sense reprieve it’s the end of me
This isn’t just a run of the mill category spied
Funnels kill, this front will spill fast, to pass the storied 5’s
Doppler saw it coming, with supercells and hailstones
Choppers crawl it’s stunning, as crews are felled when gales blown
It subsided for a bit but then the storm made a rally,
Roarin through the valley like the source was out of Tornado Alley
I captured it on camera, F Stop for the press guide
I glanced to the west, the crest was topped by an F5
Behind it dust devils crushin pebbles and sediment
The suction’s off the charts, brand new levels and measurements
The wrath of its path left people trapped in a salt mine
And the worst was soon to come, it collapsed on a fault line
Devastation’s enormous, epidemic of flash floods
Can the nation even afford to send us medics and stashed drugs?
In ways it was soothing, I was viewing the sky black
While twisting at the end inside a movie from Imax
Cimmerian:
Being a ghost hunter:
Simply, the sense is sixth, As this pen is gripped-
These letters twist like Ouija board sentences-
In the hint of flesh that a mirror reflects
Or the whisper of breath raising hair off the neck
Touches cold and callous, The lack of warmth-
When grandpa’s chair rocked back and forth
Back and forth as generations pass the torch
Bodies in the earth were crafts of sorts
Back and forth, reformed by the centuries
The potter’s wheel squeals the unchained melody
Brother, who’s righteous? Poltergeist nights just-
Spell for the Hell of She that her soul is never free
Out on recon from the grave and be-yond
I cross over with John Edwards, cross streams with Egon
Hunting for my sister in the dead of night
Carol Anne dear, Cimmerian’s here, Go to the light.
And I’m ghost.
Topic: A Storm Tracker
Redefining the way we’ll later classify hurricanes
Passerbys heard the rain splash inside of a Burger King
I was first to bring equipment and some heavy machinery
To capture the events that would sever the scenery
Bad weather always seemed to cause disturbance and panic
This version’s manic confirming the laws of thermodynamics
I managed to find a vantage for the storm of the century
Advantage debris, defenseless, I’m sworn to adventure’s creed,
Mother Nature’s vengeance descended, a tremendous steed
To smother this chaser with a kiss meant to upend a tree
Will entropy eventually retreat like the men who flee?
Essentially, unless I sense reprieve it’s the end of me
This isn’t just a run of the mill category spied
Funnels kill, this front will spill fast, to pass the storied 5’s
Doppler saw it coming, with supercells and hailstones
Choppers crawl it’s stunning, as crews are felled when gales blown
It subsided for a bit but then the storm made a rally,
Roarin through the valley like the source was out of Tornado Alley
I captured it on camera, F Stop for the press guide
I glanced to the west, the crest was topped by an F5
Behind it dust devils crushin pebbles and sediment
The suction’s off the charts, brand new levels and measurements
The wrath of its path left people trapped in a salt mine
And the worst was soon to come, it collapsed on a fault line
Devastation’s enormous, epidemic of flash floods
Can the nation even afford to send us medics and stashed drugs?
In ways it was soothing, I was viewing the sky black
While twisting at the end inside a movie from Imax
Cimmerian:
Being a ghost hunter:
Simply, the sense is sixth, As this pen is gripped-
These letters twist like Ouija board sentences-
In the hint of flesh that a mirror reflects
Or the whisper of breath raising hair off the neck
Touches cold and callous, The lack of warmth-
When grandpa’s chair rocked back and forth
Back and forth as generations pass the torch
Bodies in the earth were crafts of sorts
Back and forth, reformed by the centuries
The potter’s wheel squeals the unchained melody
Brother, who’s righteous? Poltergeist nights just-
Spell for the Hell of She that her soul is never free
Out on recon from the grave and be-yond
I cross over with John Edwards, cross streams with Egon
Hunting for my sister in the dead of night
Carol Anne dear, Cimmerian’s here, Go to the light.
And I’m ghost.