Something would come of it yet
The last cocaine-wild, cosmic amphetamine eyes
Howled down the eastern hills
To the city’s beckoning lights
Tramps and harlots light fire from their palms
Blown pupils dark in love sick, longing eyes
Growing with the wild, restless wind
In lustful, glamorous disguise
And there the angel of the evening
Sat upon the sultry heat
As troubadours gaze into the mirror
She pours them pills in restless fleets
And as the city settles
And the western wind starts to blow
The dizzy euphoria sinks away
As their vision starts to close
So dawn breaks the singing night
The buzzing high leaves the blood
The poets and painters
Let their stream of consciousness flood
Torn rhymes cover the wall
Where artists and addicts have met
Where splattered tunes had brayed
Something came of it yet.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
Something would come of it yet
The last cocaine-wild, cosmic amphetamine eyes
Howled down the eastern hills
To the city’s beckoning lights
Tramps and harlots light fire from their palms
Blown pupils dark in love sick, longing eyes
Growing with the wild, restless wind
In lustful, glamorous disguise
And there the angel of the evening
Sat upon the sultry heat
As troubadours gaze into the mirror
She pours them pills in restless fleets
And as the city settles
And the western wind starts to blow
The dizzy euphoria sinks away
As their vision starts to close
So dawn breaks the singing night
The buzzing high leaves the blood
The poets and painters
Let their stream of consciousness flood
Torn rhymes cover the wall
Where artists and addicts have met
Where splattered tunes had brayed
Something came of it yet.
