I want to wear a Persian shirt,
Run through meadows in a Celtic skirt--
I want to Don a Russian hat,
And plant my *** on the throne of Rome.
I want to bomb my words upon
London, Lisbon; Taipei, Taiwan
I would diffuse my fissile mind
And launch theoretical material like guided missiles
Give me this world of sand as a ball,
And children on the playground to toss against the wall--
It is a gift of thought to view the bulb
Of this time as a light in the firehouse
That ultimately dies
Only to be remembered by Liver's More.
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
I want to wear a Persian shirt,
Run through meadows in a Celtic skirt--
I want to Don a Russian hat,
And plant my *** on the throne of Rome.
I want to bomb my words upon
London, Lisbon; Taipei, Taiwan
I would diffuse my fissile mind
And launch theoretical material like guided missiles
Give me this world of sand as a ball,
And children on the playground to toss against the wall--
It is a gift of thought to view the bulb
Of this time as a light in the firehouse
That ultimately dies
Only to be remembered by Liver's More.
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