God On The Road

Fucking mortals
On the roads
In shiny metal boxes
And human hoards

Do they not know
which way to go
Fuck off all of you
A god is coming through

He rides a bike made of black fire
The oil of lust, exhaust if desire
Clad in black leather like a god should
God or a demon? Depends on his mood

The humans they stare before they are trodden
They lie in his wake all dying and broken
The women, oh man, they cry out his name
But to him the mortals, they are all the same.
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Laugh! fuckers!!