The Katana (1992)


All moves in cadence beats, cycles turning without a beat, 1/16 the time injectors move. My stomach pressed so hard into the gas tank I can’t breathe, and spring has sprung, G-D makes the hum, of wings.

The Katana was a sport of delicate style, in the shapes of molten liquid, of a speed that made me high. Oh it knew my every sinew, my crack against its hide that Katana made a man out of a guy. So she was a powerful sister that spirit of a bike, that sent her vibes out looking, well its true she found my wife, and that cycle of the demons, that speed that knows all of still life, brought a cherry of a woman to ride that highway knife. Better know me as thinking, better kiss me while I’m wild, better taste this gentle spirit, as it generates a child, for this motorcycle living, this bullet of my life will pound the style of living, that will be my cratered life.

Well it was a time worth living, in the apple of our eyes, when we took that bike to heaven rode it like, a heat that’s high, took its cylinders to Avalon on grime and highway cries, heard the angels say your living as we sped into the skies. Have you tasted holy water, have you tasted rain that’s wet, have you ridden a screaming engine, when all around you is so dead? Can you come on down to breathing with the speed that’s in your head, one hundred forty of all cycles this Katana, is sweet cred. Better rode with me a woman, my wife who made me a king, and we cruised onto the lifeline of what’s hard and not all seen. Rode we this all supernatural of a bike, that tears the earth, Suzuki of our memory, and we knew a better worth.

Compact this fission, know a heat that makes a bride, motorcycles on a two lane highway, as we laugh into the night. Better than it was our Camelot on this Katana of my pride, what a bike that brought two hearts to make a life. Yeah this bike brought two hearts to make a life.

All moves in cadence beats, cycles turning without a beat, 1/16 the time injectors move. My stomach pressed so hard into the gas tank I can’t breathe, and spring has sprung, G-D makes the hum, of wings. – 07.19.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

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