Once upon a time, self portentous reached the fuchsia ****** on the orient in the ghostly daze of Chinatown in tassel-blue linen
Ire of the bar-keepers can be surmised in the *** and soup
The express takes me from place to place, is this some sort of country comfort

Who cooked the wurst, livers of cattle in the pure savagery of the animal farms, dreaming of vegetables too
Hiding in the form of jazz cat hanging around speakeasies, pleasuring themselves in the ravages of good people
I have changed my mind on punishment and the ire of careless alcoholism on the angry streets looking for work

The good people tell me to get work
Am I stealing my time out of mind, I'm poised
By being an unemployed poet out of luck
I am positioned towards the west end

I'm stuck here in the east, wondering if we were always like this
The west wetlands beckon to me, time to get a job and turgidly ravaging beautiful women
But, that's something possible for a man in a western patriarchy
Adonis of Denver ******* in harlots in the west of Hell's Kitchen reminds me of well-acted *******
Making bad decisions in movies seems like a farce

Most of those beat directors are successful *******
They'd beat me if I'd crawl up their personality
Is this fate or am I part of the same successful capitalist Zen
I must be going mad in this monetary fund of scarce neon streets

You should hear me recite Heinrich Boll
The train was on time

For keepsakes, well obligated and drowning in debt
A trip to the orient wouldn't be bad, but, the fire in my painted house swallows me
Someone has to put it the **** out or turn the light cold
Years went by Frumpy went cold and murderous, no more old