Franked with some intelligence by a
machine which casts significance,
like a shadow I am posted on the walls
of ***** places, where I've seen
the seven faces covered by Salome's
veils.

I trail off sometimes grumbling,
sometime drunk but always stumbling to
meet the makers of the lights which dim
the days and shade the nights.

An envelope which holds the key, inside,
inside there's always me
a message written on a ship
that;s sinking in the sea.

Help they say is on the way
I'll wait,
and forty days or sometime later
I'm still a waiter.

They frank cranks a dime a time and
that's a business which I wish
was mine, all mine, but I have some
intelligence which I must believe is
of significance.
I'm still a waiter waiting for the
long shot of the evermore and
that's being frank.