I suppose, when you wake up
And the dream you goes dodo"¦
You will find, in your front pocket
One of those stubby golf pencils"¦
Convincing living,
That you, yourself is convinced of living"¦
Till your kidneys can't clean the convinced
out of your true blue blood stream.
And are you not now, professionally hoodwinked.
An easy street penis throbbing down breezy streets.
In a b-line like, easy like, bees like, broke down ice-cream truck's leaks"¦
You see,
However so slightly permanent,
these have been things sung"¦
That will never be songs.
Oh I suppose
Not swansongmeat
Nor bit nails spit
with strips of skin
from chicken's lips"¦
ot wet concrete
or stolen sleep,
when the water is sheets
and bleeding sheep.
Hung horrible hymns
to a durable beat
and re-recordable grief"¦