Traffic Of Souls

Some souls travel underneath the night
Slinking around in the dark, where habits invite
Some souls travel underneath a star
The gallery of Heaven is fixed, that’s the law
Some souls travel just to patrol
Weaving in and out of the Traffic of Souls
Some souls travel where the light is hot
Throw a beach towel over a Black Hole and say, «Family Plot»
Some souls wander into Lightning’s flash
Their hearts were designed for racing, then to turn to ash
Some souls' traveling takes its toll
Forgetting how they were first swept up into the Traffic of Souls
Some souls travel where the coin is tossed
Heads you’re homebound, tails you’re lost
Some souls travel only north to south
Their compass points directly into Hell’s mouth
For those souls, traveling itself is the goal
Until they’re sold and spit back into the Traffic of Souls