(no subject)
I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin’.
I see bad times today.
The roar of the motorcycle echoed in to the night as Goll rode East along the abandoned interstate. His hood was thrown back with the speed and a loud, low laugh echoed from behind his bared fangs. The monster between his thighs positively ripped down the old asphault with low growls, leaving a trail of exhaust in it's wake. Goll's massive waraxe was strapped to his back with thick leather and unhidden. There was a homicidal glint in his eye and blood fresh on his lips. The headlight on the motorcycle catches a sign for a moment. The sign reads:
Tulsa - 204 Mi.
I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.
The sirens were going off behind him on the desolate stretch of highway, filling the air in front of him with red and blue light. Goll looked down at the speedometer. One hundred and five miles per hour. Fuck. Pulling over to the side, the highway patrol officer did the same. After a moment the man got out of the car and began to walk towards Goll. Then the officer caught sight of the axe.
The Patrol officer only had time to breath the words, "What the hell?" And then... darkness.
Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we’re in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.
As the bright lights of Tulsa came in to view, Goll could not help but let out another low laugh. He slowed the speed of his motorcycle slowly and extended his mind to mask the large axe on his back - no sense creating commotion here. He knew where the Elysium was and he headed towards it. That song had been stuck in his head since he'd left Salt Lake City and he could not help but speak a line as he neared the building.
"Don’t go around tonight, well it’s bound to take your life, there’s a bad moon on the rise."
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin’.
I see bad times today.
The roar of the motorcycle echoed in to the night as Goll rode East along the abandoned interstate. His hood was thrown back with the speed and a loud, low laugh echoed from behind his bared fangs. The monster between his thighs positively ripped down the old asphault with low growls, leaving a trail of exhaust in it's wake. Goll's massive waraxe was strapped to his back with thick leather and unhidden. There was a homicidal glint in his eye and blood fresh on his lips. The headlight on the motorcycle catches a sign for a moment. The sign reads:
Tulsa - 204 Mi.
I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.
The sirens were going off behind him on the desolate stretch of highway, filling the air in front of him with red and blue light. Goll looked down at the speedometer. One hundred and five miles per hour. Fuck. Pulling over to the side, the highway patrol officer did the same. After a moment the man got out of the car and began to walk towards Goll. Then the officer caught sight of the axe.
The Patrol officer only had time to breath the words, "What the hell?" And then... darkness.
Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we’re in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.
As the bright lights of Tulsa came in to view, Goll could not help but let out another low laugh. He slowed the speed of his motorcycle slowly and extended his mind to mask the large axe on his back - no sense creating commotion here. He knew where the Elysium was and he headed towards it. That song had been stuck in his head since he'd left Salt Lake City and he could not help but speak a line as he neared the building.
"Don’t go around tonight, well it’s bound to take your life, there’s a bad moon on the rise."