by Peter Loaf
High in the mountains, volcano extinct
The perfect hideout, no-one would think
Foggy air chilly
Been a bit silly
Trusting a stranger, taking a drink
Climbing the canyon, topping the rim
World going funny, my vision dim
Spinning sensation
Sudden deflation
Falling flat blackness, I trusted him
Waking up helpless, elbows and wrists
Boot laces hobbled, my useless fists
Overhung feeling
My head still reeling
The monsoon season, the coastal mists
Retching I struggle, trying to rise
Flat on back helpless, His captured prize
On knees positioned
Like art commissioned
Half naked captive, and cloudy skies
His organ snaking, down trouser leg
Hair knot He’s tying, I try to beg
My pleas ignoring
Body exploring
Chase me game playing, butt hooking peg
Rock walls surrounding, grey overcast
Bootlaces hobbled, not very fast
Hide and seek tracking
The deck He’s stacking
Canned hunter rapist, nevermore chaste
I see him sometimes, looking at ground
There’s no escaping, rocks all around
Hobble blind tripping
Sanity gripping
Falling flat helpless, and quickly found
Taken to campsite, tethered on knees
Stripping His camies, smelling head cheese
My neck bending back
A deep-throat attack
His snake like pecker, my titty squeeze
Weekend together, my options few
My grave he’s digging, I take my cue
Some slack I’m working
The wrist rope jerking
Terror transforming, my strength renew
The grey skies darken, a lighting bolt
To tent He’s running, He is no dolt
My hair comes ripping
My hobbles tripping
Wrath of God striking, ten billion volt
The tent poles carbon, easiest path
Thunderclap instant, you do the math
My captor extinct
And all in a blink
The blue sky follows, Frisco flight path
Finding a fire, bootlaces burned
Hobble defeated, freedom hard earned
The ridge I’m climbing
With perfect timing
Smokejumpers drifting, my rescue yearned
