I script an' write mad-man prose
Burned art squeals, flossed an' sore
Eye-fuzz dealing wind-up beatniks
But the clown crawled out for whores
Mush-room drug's coming on, sir
Fungal feelings, blue an' gray
When re-call touts foreign udder-think
The brain'll crawl away

And those foot-long 'gators
Are but killers growin' scales
And their face that thirst-lusts mostly
Turned to bite off ... waders' tails

She said, "Their lezbo nieces,
and the toothless strain to see,
what you squandered through high-paying bards,
and wood-lot-fettered trees!"
One of Springsteen's best gal-sturgeons,
Bruce was squeezing for some roe
And pal ol' Max Weinberg's strokin'
Drums on dumb O'Brien's show

And so it was to-matoes
Gassed in ethylene in Vail
Fattened gracefully for roasting
Turned a riper ... shade of stale

She fed my bone some oak leaves
Rodents loosely squirmed at me
So I shook her thigh with cooking gas
And horsed her bugle-free
Saying, "You're 'Busty The Mermaid',
with a D-cup sea-shell bra"
Then she slapped my face so madly
She dis-lo-ca-ted my jaw

And so it was that graters
Of cheese pillars rolled in kale
Splattered mace that hurt, but mostly,
Burned an Eider ... male duck's tail

If mooses be the food of stars
Then little men are green
And likewise if green guys live on Mars
Then Bert keeps chimneys clean
Shy mouse-like men with hard gourds
Scream and skip straight through your head
Smoking grass fries brainways quickly
Making eyeballs cherry-red

And so it was that raters
Of these syllable-entrails
Laugh as wasted words jut grossly
From a writer's ... made-up wail