So, they say we’re all the same
How are you going to sing it?
Bringing out into your mind a collaborated answer
While the ferry boats all seem to be washed up onto the sands
The newspaper boy cranks his bicycle
Hey boy! What’s your headliner?
It was sad the other day when the mourners forgot to spike the punch
Who is it that stands there chewing no tobacco
If it is you, spill out the rhyme of the matching days
Wholesome bodies clutter the robot island straining the blood of the diamond king
Whilst sharp in the distance the baseball players follow trump of the euchre game beginning days of before
Tonka, tonka give a forgotten video-tape machine a massage dueing to a wranking lion filtering the curved sky
But on the other hand:
A dixie cup dispenser adorning the urinal,
(written on the wall:)
Seek through your minstrel
A song to the agony of yesterday.
What was the saying inside the mousehole again?
Better find an answer to every question
The circulation manager undoes his fly,
Excuse me sir …. What’s your headliner?
Stems were uprooted to the code of the diamond king
Coincidence marks a different story in the foreign land
Dragnet sponges soak into the fireball of Oz’s merry-go-round
If it’s bigger than me
Then it’s not alive.
As long as the showers prevail in the western hemisphere
A gauged needle will bury into the nymphoid
Flung hope stifles desperation
Attention is brought to the bricklayers tormented by mosquitoes in the fugue of South America’s Amazon
World War Two butterflies leopardizes the dusking skies
As black crescendo notes flutter the donator’s listening ear
A dying voice shrills the Martian cemetery as the aquafuge of the foglight generation clasp the fleeting fingers of Ian Anderson
But in an opening statement to his press conference
The diamond king admits to intercourse with the flowered mersey
Did the unqualified rabbit have it down in his headliner?
Incognito, the whirling wind dashes about the frozen staircase
But you are looking in the wrong direction, referee
The soccer match speaks into the midnight donkey
Who’s ass defecated onto my rose garden?
The ginger queen asks the bitter end
But the world is spitting on mankind
I read it so in the Daily Planet during the last weekend in January
The coins of time have been spent
Spoke the soothsayer after consulting the crystal ball
Mystery man set fire to his collection of Dell Comics
As the continent sinks into the hands of the communists
A major bottling company changes its ingredients in order to prevent a depletion of raw grains on the Ivory Coast
A revival of reruns brings Spock behind the screen of middle class America once again
It’s news to everyone but the assailant of a misdemeanor who was too much preoccupied with curing his papers before the employer
The diamond king states his ideology to the wise men of the empire
No one agrees with him but a modified motor changes the discussion
A student of Plato re-enhances his memory of the Korean woman of the moments ‘ere to his homecoming
And the lady of your life tells you in her demented fashion that your departure date has arrived.
But where is your paper that is normally found between your two front doors?
How in the world are you able to find out the things that corrupt or seduct your yearnings?
Is it impossible for a man to continue?
When he has found himself abandoned by the source to the locked ring of the future
Where will I find you tomorrow?
And how shall I know?
The clock looks like it is unwound
When you find yourself without your headliner.