So what I did was, I got the hell off the bloody beach is what I did. I don't know Florcus from flounder [the fish], and I'm not about to get caught up in some other joker's art project if you know what I mean. I took to the streets of city our fair city, city of perpetual night, city of lost souls, the rotten brutal city, city with a small college and a jazz band, and i started to hoof. met with a man to talk about a dog for a few cold minutes beneath a sodium light, had a smoke and felt much relaxed thereafter. hit the seven-eleven for peanuts and coffee. i had nothing to do now and felt a backlog of neurotic energy. stumbled into the cop lights of parking lot and that's when the smoke kicked in fuzzy. 'aa-ahh' had to get away from the lights one forearm over my eyes. so strange the city would be broadcasting a concert programme of Varese... reaching into my overcoat pocket, feeling for the iPod volume. no - better leave it louder. only way this twisted scene can make sense. i stepped into the darkness of a neighborhood and let it swallow me.
following the walkaway to the curb
a cloud upon my soul sent to disturb
led me to a house of ill repute
seeking comfort in the company
of seven silken maidens
posessed of expertise upon the flute.
O nite of sumptuous banquets of flesh, 'aa-ahh' feeling for the iPod volume, neurotic energy kicked in fuzzy and getting caught up in some joker's small college with a jazz band. got the hell off the beach for a few cold minutes let it swallow me, seeking comfort in the company of the rotten brutal city reaching into my overcoat pocket, talk to police lights about a twisted dog. i stepped into the peanuts and coffee programme beneath a sodium light. i stumbled and relaxed thereafter -- better leave it louder, keep one forearm over my eyes. So what I did was had a smoke, broadcasting Varese.
No comments:
Post a Comment