Cardboard boxes containing a fabric
Of something quite similar to corduroy
Converse high tops and a ***** old mattress
All the while oblivious to the boy.
Stacks of old donuts and Burger King fry bags
With whiskey and wine and a strip of barbed wire
Wrapped around a pair of prosthetic legs
And in the meantime he couldn't get higher

I see the photographs flashing in his eyelid telescope breastplate
He slams the sky and dances to the end of days
Crawling on the floor and throwing wet sweaters
Into rusty old dump-trucks on days of red letters!

Sunglasses mimicking Kanye style on a sweater-vest
With hands crawling up made out of glass bowls and jewelry
To encase the black chin made up of the camera-rest
Leading back to the nose jutting forward; a full-finger ring
Molly was her name and her fair hair flowed beautifully
Made up of plastic bags and empty pill-capsules
The eyes are glowing so bright and the mouth gaping open
He screams his dark magic right into the night!
The ******* techno disc-jockey ******
Runs up the telephone pole into kaleidoscope starlight
Eating the moths from the mouths of the dancing girls
Laughing quite gaily and not looking quite right!
The objects unfold and the man crawls from underneath
Surrounded by possessions, clinging to everything
Trying desperately to breathe, dying from a quiet disease
All the things he owned ended up owning him, you see!

Oh! Oh!
Red, red lungs!
Whoa no!
A wire undone!