30 November 2012
Vocal screams to a new high, progressive riff on bass, Lead guitar cuts the silence, energy fills the place.
Dreams of a Red Barchetta, screaming through the night, blur of the landscape greets my sight.
Tom Sawyer yells out my name, thrown into the lime light, subdivisions try to justify who is right.
Maples still angry with the oaks, unbridled hate, the edge of the saw will be their fate.
Circumstances dictate our actions, a farewell to kings, the people's sad reactions.
The fragrance of Afghanistan, a train pulls into sight, visions of the year 2112, bring intense fright.
Awakened by the spirit of radio, it was just a dream, greeted with Geddy's intense scream.
Back to reality, time to get on with today's plan, thats why I'm called, the working man.
Rush Of Life • Opuss № I