wet, cold 2am street concrete catches my feet
I am the arrow flung from the bow after the defeat
assembly line streetlight eyes watch as I flee
ignition switch positioning complete
her pleading's my pedestrian parachute
but I was doused in this petrol so long ago
I've got gears for organs and oil for blood
I'm the engine in the hearse of the funeral procession
I am the man who invented regret
I am the match; it's lifespan and action
I deteriorate all I see
magnesium paper carbon oxygen
I ignite and burn
I am
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