He was that drunk He was reciting Gilgamesh In the original Sumerian And the declaration o independence Backwards Like some Autistic barbarian Sloshing ***** On those around A blessing According to him Baptism o scotch saw his lecture begin Which went on for time And covered some ground Revealed great truths But I can't remember them now.
The kids call Hot dogs GLIZZIES These days I wonder why But I decided Not to engage With what might be The description On the World Wide Web Instead I think My own Legend I'll invent Does the glaze Glisten And that's What it is? Or perhaps Glissando The smoothness Of musical change I don't want the answer As it will surely Fall short Of Greeze Mustard And onions Not forgetting The salt.
When your stacked up parts Seem less than what You thought you are Move em around a bit Step back View it from afar Or at least As is reasonable Without Breaking a wall Don't stand up Too quickly You might Have a fall.
That. How come you don't regress in a train When you jump up and land again ? Is a bit o a betrayal It talks about The way that we teach The whacky constructs That need more explaining Than what we keeping talking About Again Could we Keep talking To the end Of which There is no doubt.
Every time I think of you I'm overcome No excuse It a feeling that should not be The pull I feel So close to thee I imagine you and me In a state o ecstasy I know it never will not be Is that what I meant Contradictory.
Walk to the edge of the pier Look down at the Unreflective Nature Of The sea And hope That There's Something within That you can Talk about With Some Of your family.
Why would it start On a Monday? Seems a bit On the nose Wouldnt you say? Surely it makes more sense midweek To start The Satanicness then On behalf Of those Who believe The goat And all of his ways Their aims Won't be remote But will be Deffo believed.
Is this what you want? Is that what you're after? Thought you was him Valiantly being gainst All disaster Straighten up now Or bend At your leisure Accounts of the living Against The final measure.
When the spiders set up shop In your Torus And build you a shade For your light It's something it's always needed But you've never done it Coz you're *****.
I used to have a T shirt With a comedic drawing Of a deranged Bug eyed Wild haired ******* With veins in his teeth Throttling A big glass Of foaming ale With the legend I COULD ****** A PINT!!! I wish I still had it To get me through The night.
Prozzies and poets Get paid to **** In public Well That's not really true No one on here Is getting paid A good chunk Also Not getting laid More akin to Gonzo **** then You recorded it And Now It's out there In the world Defiant and empowered ? Or Just Feeling a bit wierd?
Into the bowl Of Yorkshire To the town Of Otley The landscape Somehow More ancient A place Of artists And The ones Who Carved it rough SLOW MOTION COWBOYS Lit the place right up.