Play the radio on.

Play the radio on,
watch the melody warming up the room,
watch your shadow dance.
Condescendingly embraced by the light dull.

Rise to race the posthumous horse
as the raining drops caress your face
and the wind loudly whispers your fate.

Rise to race the posthumous firefly
as his fly wafted in thin air no more
and no bright seen in the socket of his eyes.

Rise to race the posthumous man
as the worms plays hide and seek in his throat
and his pride was forever gone.