i score my ticket, i lick it, hop aboard,
and slightly brick it tho mostly i'm bored
of waiting to unmoor, cut the cord and soar
and before i'm ready i take off like concord
away i go- was it ever this fast, i think
i'm late to mass
or am i last to class, can't think,
on the brink of sinking, going mental,
can't thoughts keep straight, i deflate and inflate
in windmill stalemate, a drive through expiation
of all i've ever done wrong. here are those times
i made my mum cry, all my lies, getting high.
my careless sin
s in scores and crore
and i swear hereby that i'll sin never more.
you kids want to be careful when you're taking all that crap
and make sure that you quit before you wind up trapped.
all that putting it up your nose,
injecting it between your toes,
no, i'd never do it recreationally.
as i slow my descent there's a glowing trident
wielding motherfucker, mister poseidon.
this strident tyrant takes over as pilot
and in plenuous silence starts giving me guidance.
even as he frightens his highness enlightens
and i, unwilling servant, bow in compliance.
the ocean brightens with omnitenebricidal
bridal splendour. tremendous tidal
waves deicidal end all my idols
ocean wide in an orgy of violence
and blissful baby i find a vagina
and assign a time to be reborn.
if it ain't on the nhs then i don't want to know.
it's the taliban who's profiting from those seeds you sow.
i'll have tablets any day,
they won't hook me anyway,
and i never do them recreationally.
my atman enraptured, my ego shattered,
i stand in place anchored and roll my world around me.
i hear a voice sounding like 'look at him, he's wankered'
and i gaze into my eyes and hear myself answer
'no, just a eutierriast'. 'terrorist?' is exclaimed.
the ground rises rapidly and there's terrific pain.
'hello, police? i've apprehended a man.
says he's a terrorist. better send a SWAT van'.
a ladybird unfolds its wings and launches off the ground
and more angry voices shout 'you're surrounded! stay down!'
a row of ants appears, voila! the ground bucks and sways,
and with a hand on my collar the ground falls away.
have you heard about the new one that they've got?
all the kids in my day were happy enough with pot.
now they're shooting off to space
and they're eating people's faces,
o i'd never do it recreationally.
they said my i.q. is seventy two,
i suppose that they meant figures.
then they locked me up with the retards,
the spackers, and the niggers.
with mister dury, froth and fury
who stabbed his gaffer at the brewery;
mister christ who never speaks nice
and carved his sister into slices;
mother bentley, ever so friendly,
who likes to take it in all entries;
and mister pervis, always nervous,
never the same since military service.
what the fuck is she always writing,
why won't she let me see her clipboard?
whenever i ask they sedate me for fighting
and leave me locked up and ignored.