after
a mcjob show trial
in the dust factory
or
a dole days
long hot
ennui probation
we
pile
into
a
suburban
boho
bungalow
bedroom
and gas down
our funky lexicon
getting loud
~
we
get weed stupid
lift the veil
forget the day
and
go
march
up the
weird sane street
l
a u i
g h g
n
at sign posts
looking only for time
in
englands great estate
rubble
heap
~
only the clouds !
i declare
only the clouds
hint gods still playing !
we
are
a Feckless of Stoners
a Puff Pod
a Cash Only Hash Mash
bottle openers on all our keys
out
for
wine at 9
~
oh the horror
of the bottle shop
the damn fluorescents
such indecent order
all the faces
running wax
accelerated blinks
my hands all thumbs
everythings booby trapped
day-sick bunnies
in the
straight headlights
of
consumerisms
incandescent
candy coloured
circus
and
it
makes
the
cool sweet air
of
street side nothing
w o n d e r f u l
as cold sweat dries
~
fresh cigarette foil
balled and flicked
match sulphur
under street lights
swiss army corkscrew
deployed
on the heavy reds
we show the punt
to the early moon
a fist in the face
of the weekday dusk
victorious
delirious
high on our sugar mountain
we
gas down
from bigbible.org.uk
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