a lass a lack
shot gone shack
towing the line
keeping (on) track
your shrine to the sailor
your jim-jims yer jailer
my world (pop one)
your world (pop none)
where does all that money come from?
my jack was knifed
your tongue was forked
the spoon was full
my falcon hawked
oh my gold falcon with its beige plastic dash
full of poisonous fumes
and its plumes of smoke crash
my vacuum fucking sucks
my void must be worth a few bucks
my null is my skull is my dull ache
for god sake
for william blake
for adams little snake
waking up in march
the idols of march
the groves of larch
just think of em n it makes me parched
and sand everywhere
hand me your share
never been there
here there or anywhere
the midget and the shark
talking in the dark
the shark says ooh you nice little bite
the midget says that cant be right
dinner in five
luck e to b alive
things go better with coke
i come to find that aint no joke
some say i’m a slowpoke
yeah its true folks
i’m the sentimental bloke
crestfallen
west crawlin’
guest callin’
oh steve
what you got up yer sleeve
tell me something i want to believe
oh steven something only i believe in
even eve n aurora …..
the fauna n the flora
priest =fucking aura