Hot rod mama moving
Like a motor cycle devil in a race
Blown out my mind, I can't keep up the pace

I'm selling all my midnight
Still broke and living on the ground
My gone little mama cut out without a sound

With my greased-up levis
Baseball boots above my head
If it wasn't such a tragedy I might wish I was dead

She took my ice-cream mustang
And my purple colored Dodgeville
She even took my panpipes and my elixir of life pill

Smile your smile Mister Scenescof
Its not hard to have run off
On a physical ride
With my babe by your side
Smile your smile for a while

It was grand to have known her
It was grand to have known her
I don't need anyone
To dictate all my fun
Smile your smile and then run

Mountain eyes, peeping out of his head ah...
Sipping tea composing in his bed ah...
A hundred hands
Working on a musical of old
Debussy and Mendelssohn Handel and Dvorak of old

Child star, prot?g? of Mister Gormez
Who said you'd go far
Child star, they do not see just what a precious
Gem you'd be
Sad to see them watching you
Fade into in-ah in-ah-visibility

Twelve years old, your elfish fingers kiss your
Beethoven hair, The awesome people stare they're
Unaware of all the angel sounds they see and hear
Debussy and Mendelssohn Handel and Dvorak they hear

Child star, prot?g? of Mister Gormez
Who said you'd go far
Child star, and when you died at just thirteen
They wept and wrung their hair
Sad to see them mourning you when you are
There Within the flowers and the trees

Saw a face in a conical of lace, it was a strange orchestra
Manikin skin pounding on a bass-drum, strange orchestra

Lilliputian, evil in the eyes of the man with the leaf harp
He lusts for the urchin hiding under mountains of mole skin

A big cat like t-tyrannosaurus going to Lilliput
The ensemble make a tiny rumble, the cellist solos

The sky blackens and the bass string slackens
And they stand statuesquely
Then they giggle and they wiggle through the door
In the big dark oak tree

Broken English words cracked the air like a bell
She had a chateau in Virginia Waters
Free from all those culture vultures

Her silver car a silver cloud cloaked the air in a shroud
Her pearly author's teeth tore
The seasoned cedar colored pheasant

Her one rich wish is to write a book about
A Venetian mother's problems
On a barge in little Venice

She peers at the portrait of her poetess grandmother
Who's theatrical in character
Wise just like Socrates

She sinks her nails into the aged canvas
But the power from the wordster's head
Was cool and shrill and frightening

Miss Drag is intermingled with the powder-blue chaise lounge
She types some acid words
To her hairless Havana art dealer

Her one rich wish is to write a book about
A chateau in Virginia Waters
Free from all those culture vultures

I saw a little man who had a toy trumpet
He sat on a stone with his lips to the mouthpiece
He was deaf dumb and blind so he couldn't quite make it
When out of the horn came a solid silver genie
Who was made just to make the little man happy

As the man made sounds the genii painted fluid
Mind-blowing visions on the little man's brain-box

Everybody small with no lips to play the trumpet
Everybody living inside a giant deaf aid
Everybody's eyes crucified to the tapestry
Woven by the giant with the solid silver genie
Who plays the trumpet

---

Afghan Woman, deemed a princess
Born a true blue thoroughbred,
Head a chiseled face of fables
Omen of no ill

Hills that spread around your chamber
Blooms that twine around your ears
Blossoms of the royalest texture
Angel of the years

Clad in sacks and scraps of linen
Living 'neath your water well
Praying that my youthy pauper's face
Will quench you well

Gazelle girl striding through your palace
Precious jewels nestle in your hair
Rameses born with a platinum future
Take my heart and care.

Night comes down just like a giant umbrella
Slows me down, got to get it together

Saxophone sage plays upon her doorstep
Evening's lies are dying all around him

Head of plumes and crimson ostrich feathers
8th Hussars' manners gush out of my bloodstream, my queen
Clad in drag of oriental beggar
Juju beads holding me all together

Graceful Fat Sheba
Graceful fat Sheba, she works with a meat cleaver

Sweating behind the meat counter

Her skin, it leaks liquid, the odor is sickly

Her features aren't unlike a swan

Her poetic, gluttonic waist is impressive

She smiles as she hacks up a pig

Graceful fat Sheba, she works with a meat cleaver

Sweating behind the meat counter

Wielder of words is steeped within traditional verbs
And curiously a dented top hat
Discovered in the moonlit Laundromat
A busted cheroot is smoking on the heel of his boot
His opera is torn thru' the haste of operatic oyster
Eating evenings of waste
Sleek astrakhan, reclining on a Chippendale stand
So sad they should be owning a man who's
Thicker than the forestry from where they began

Robard de Font Le Roy
Robert de Front Le Roy

Sitting all alone, looking at the throne of the one I used to love
Sitting all alone, looking at the stone of my lovely Inca love

The huntress stands, with peacock hands she'd take me to where she lie
She sighs so deep, it rocks the river of her stomach sky

The oval moon, it tans the faun who holds grapes for my love

Sitting all alone, sitting in the throne of my lovely Inca love

Hare Krishna

I come from a time where the burning of trees was a crime,

I lived by a sea where to be was a thing of true joy,

My people were fair and had sky in their hair,

But now they're content to wear stars on their brows.