My Dark Passenger : The Dexter Morgan Syndrome

Three in the morning returning from a fresh  kill
Offering a temporary high, no emotion, no thrill
Dreams invaded by black body bags on an ocean floor
Battling stages of this passenger accepting his detour

 

This dark rider has traveled with me for many miles
In every portrait, laughing behind all of my smiles
Must I endure fake social erections with no penetration
That will only lead to a less than holy spiritual congregation

 

Dexter,  burden with a destiny to control the beast of his youth
Blood slides, and tests only hide this bitter undeniable truth
Brothers separated, leaving only dark flowers
Cancer, our La Costa nostra, is "this thing of ours"

 

Dealing with this passenger has weaken a life desire
Chemo wars to destroy the evidence by burning fire
Sooner or later we'll sit on his lap ,as he reads to us a story
No bells, or trumpets, just a soul broken down by glory

 

Fear that our offspring one day might meet this invader in black
Shadows, exposed by PET scans, conveniently revealing every crack
We lived in different worlds only united by fate
Fighting our own homicide, extending that future date

 

Oh dark traveler, living in our cells end your torturous lease
Find another host, leave us with a ounce of dignity and pound of peace
We will fight as long as we can against your unholy coup
Burden with the task of reversing your surgical and emotional voodoo