Cold rodYou’re a little godFine plotbut a little oddscapegoatwith no timeand no bridges left to burnsweet rhymesnever stopsistersof a melting topin the year ofrunning afterthe shape of thingsthat are goneslicesof a new frontiercallingfor the engineerdrowningin a pool of beerwith no bridges left to burnI feel like a streetcarwithout parking spacebrokerwith a poker facecan you still smileat a lost trialwith no bridges left to burn ?