My eyes they sip September Genesis
In the desecration of a black-bound boy,
A screaming spiral in the dark
Jackct jack-boots, jeans they're ripped like hell,
This is my body, this is my blood as well.
His red is drying on the black
But I came back to see him die,
He was not Christ
But a pale boy, and black against another black
A broken body desolate,
Still searching for the brake that failed,
A burning Bonneville by bis side
He is still riding in bis mind,
Wild wheel-stands and power slides
He was not Christ
But crucified.
Black-eyed horses are shot if once they kill
But motor-bikes are straightened out to sell.