The Frisk
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Mount Agony

The Frisk


Sun dappled sweat slashes awake
Blood blotted out by the breeze
Another bolt upright blue light special
Snarling scenes fade linger disease

The starting gate's filled with agony mounts
Each a catalog of a circle of hell
The gamut of grisly peaks await
It's post time for fit fever padded cell

Shying and prancing they stare at each other
Then burst down the track at sanguinary speed
No way to run from the horses of hell
Destined to lose no matter who leads

On torture, on abuser, on cold-blooded killer
On molester, on rapist, on brute
On mayhem, on plague, on death gurgle spasm
Lacerate, impale, convulse

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