The 405

Verse 1

Broke down on the shoulder of the 405, no headlights

Notice the headlights approach slow, I know the night's

Owned by the kind that post righteous quotes but load pipe

Coastal elite type, toast to peace but hold spite

Most folks I meet boast their soul's clean but ooze fright

I wrote this piece to expose the beast in plain sight

A hoax of peace, the joke's on me for hoping they'd think twice

They choke on keys, the lock and key's a broken motif I can't splice

Verse 2

Heard the hollow hum of hostile howls behind the hospital

His whole heart hollow, hoping wholly for a possible

Haven half-forgotten—hold his head, he's horizontal

His honor's haunted, honest hauntings horizontally throttle

His halo's horribly hot but hardly helpful

He howls then halts, his halo hauled through hell's full handful

He holds his hat, half-hating half the hands that held

He hurt so bad, the hurt is half his habitat itself

Verse 3

I seen a man break, mirror crack, can't face the pane he's in

Frame of mind a tangled vine, he hangs his shame within

The game of grifters slang their scripture, claim they gave a tenth

While pavement aches from vacant stares and vacant benedictions

Famous cases, faceless faces trade their sacred visions for a faded mention

Patience wasted, basement-dwelling waiting on a basic pension

Raised adjacent to the places where the pavement's missing

Made an arrangement: traded chasing greatness for escaping prison

Verse 4

And the world keeps its rhythm

A quiet, violent clock

We kiss the hands that whip us

And then we mock the ones who rock

The soft ones weep in corners

The hard ones sweep their scorn up

The truth is just a thorn stuck

In the throat of every newborn

We hate what we can't hold

We break what we can't own

We take a heart and fold it cold

Then blame the bone for being stone