One Day, Temple Street By Elevator

Slim Pickings On The Meridian Drive,
Fire-Axes And Dalmatian Blues To The Accident Scene,
Gasoline Slush-Puppy For A Brother's Keeper,
And The Mayor Is Visiting A Poorer Country Of Fools...
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This Winter Has Been So Under The Weather
That Obnoxious Prostitutes Have Infiltrated The Missions For A Chance Of Rain,
Whores Wanting The Polar-Caps To Melt In Their Favor,
For Assholes From The Cabbage-Patch To Sputter And Bloom,
Suckling Pigs Racking Up Their Gambleing Debts For A Stink-Finger,
Buttering The Belly Of The Beast's Burden...
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Paper-Bagged ShowGirl Pole-Dance,
Tripping On Their Trap-Doors,
Spiders In High-Heels With Coupons For Baby-Powder,
Ugly-Sympathy Fortunate To Be Present When Called,
Then To Rack Up The Numbers And Name A New King For Their Calenders,
Paper-Cuts And Hidden Rope-Burns...
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Left Over With The Magic Of Frost-Bitten Allegory,
SomeTimes... It Just Sounds Good,
To Plug The Ears And Wish For A Wiser Youth...
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But... Today... Oh, Today...
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All That's Revered In The Low-Ceiling'd Vibe
Are Those Aluminum-Starved Zodiac Ministers Of Copacetic,
Harboring Their Whipping-Boys To The Punch Bowl,
Barking, Hissing, And Spitting Their Way InTo Traffic,
Shineing Through That Blue Intercom To Dazzle On Mystic Floors
To Displace Bath Water For Their Jizz-Moppers...
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Fuck This Double-Decker World,
I Am Going To Watch Its Bottom Fall Out...
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See All Those Ghost-Whispering Faggots Tumble Down,
Listen To The Scratching Clawing As The Night Market Opens For Business.