Looked out on the window and what did i see
The Night – black as an ant on the charry stump
You don’t see black like that in the city
Pierced by twinkling starlets on a shooting spree
Black is the scary night – the sorry charry nite
Oh what a night, December all the way to January
This could be the nite for you and me
a jarring, scarring feeling for you and me
We beat to the dance of a different drum
Feel that beat go through us like a rump-a-pum-pum
Les Paul, Les Paul the blackest white guitar body
A stellar explosion in a heavenly body
Stars are wild flowers, cherry and lemon-hued
There for the picking at any latitude
There for the picking at any longtitude
There for the picking at any altitude!
Astral weeds prosper in the center of paradise
I got two tickets, they’re under the dashboard light
In the glove compartment, under two sets of gloves
Theres a packet of trojans that fit like a rubber glove
This poem is all murdered out. And shit. Like.
what is shit?
the words that maketh murder?
‘Murdered out’ is Ameican slang for a flat black paint job on yr’ ride. Like spray paint.
Yo shit be murdered out.