square, like a box within a box
Like a cube within a cube.
Always ending and beginning,
On an ever floppy boob
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnivorous babboon
Like some barbasol that’s burning
On your face just like the moon
Like a duck that goes on quacking
Like it thinks that it’s a loon
And the world is like McDonalds
Getting Loud and out of tune
Like the dead ends that you find
In the circuits of your mind
Like a funnel that you follow
To a jug of Newman’s own
Down a hollow to a tavern
With artwork that’s on loan
Like white stuff that keeps melting
In a dish of good ice cream
Or the ripples from an insect
You saw swimming in a stream.
Like a duck that won’t stop quacking
With a dumb look on it's face
And the world is like an apple
Its circuitry all in place.
Like the gravy that you find
On the biscuits of your mind
I have a rocket in my pocket
Words that fall down and lie dead
Why did winter go so quickly
Did I spend that much time in bed?
The cops are knocking at the door,
And walking through the muck
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the quacking of a duck.
Breakfast drying on the table
And a ding without a dong
Half remembered names and faces
And where’d I leave my thong?
When your car would not turn over
And she was eaten by a bear
And the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair
Like a box inside a box
Like a cube within a cube
Never ending so annoying
On an ever spinning wheel
As you wish that you’d go blind
Like the trademark that you find
In the recesses of your mind.
Prisoners hanging in a dungeon
And the fragment of this song
Fulminating psychosis
And your breath is kinda strong
When you were looking for dear Rover
Were you suddenly impressed
By its outline in the pavement
Where a dumptruck it had messed
Like an ill-considered meal
Like the organs of a gorgon
Like a baby at the wheel
Always turning never steering
On an ever spinning wheel
As you are severely taxed and fined
Like the revenue code internal
In the backstreets of your mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment