Rubber necking at
girls in their summer clothing...
May the ghosts of grinders find you
and in every tea cup haunt you...
Tree leaf, tea leaf, let us leave;
satisfaction absent, apparent it seems...
Five "Tea"s do I count,
but "Coffee"s only three...
Roses are red,
violets are blue...
Puppet moves; rap breaking a dance
Wiggling gyrating and synthesizers...
Years I've dreamed of snagging her
And holding her softly in my hands...
I am a dune beetle
I stick my face in doodoo...
Can you make me one
with everything...
When my heart is in the net
my mind is in the commode...
The last concert I was at, hippies were crying
that Bob had just walked off the stage, they where...
WAIT!!
Are you...