The local crips are tipping buses over
And crushing school kids.
I believe you.
You wanted to pray but said no God exists.
You worshipped at a bar building altars.
You said you suck hope through a swizzle.
Your next Manhatten will make you a star.
The local American Medical Association
Is issuing a new disease.
I believe you.
You wanted to go truth shopping.
You showed me your shopping cart.
You said you found a good deal.
You bought a used artificial heart.
The local village council is codifying
schizophrenia at the shopping mall.
I believe you.
The boundless playground summer,
a hoard of scent from sun,
The busty babble of bongo drummers
jiggling for peach fun.
And Julie beats for her old man
And Jane for a prince to come
And Jack for her new fiancé
A rhythm to-do did-done.
Papaya cream in crescent role
screams a concert of all hope flung,
The hardening nipple of grassy knoll
nudges canyon Kool-Aid tongue.
And Julie twists for her old man
And Jane for a prince to come
And Jack for her new fiancé
A rhythm to-do did-done.
The Jukebox
Time to leave this place now....
Memory Motel - Fourth Floor
Memory Motel - Third Floor
Memory Motel - Second Floor
Memory Motel - First Floor Lobby
I need spiritual help.
I need to get out of this bar because I am an alcoholic.