A people person only minus the personality, a parody onto thee
Do you ever imagine what I could be without me
Because, baby, so do I…
Quantifiable-at-large, a bright spark heart attack
And I fail at being gracious while other people speak at me
When, really, I’m as weak as the morning after
Rum ‘n’ coke twiddle our thumbs til bleeding by the gnarled teeth of a sniffer-dog’s dreams
Pondicherry please, permit me this…
Homeless, yet sitting in our heavily-accosted mansions, heaps of fake people whispering snidely near needy pearl-diamanté ears
These wine-twisted sonsabitches with stars near their summarising eyes – oh my, my oh my haphazard why!?
What’s better than gold because whatever that is then that’s exactly what you are
Please pardon my 24-carat eye – permit me this Earth-bound dive no less strategically vilified by the knife
I wish for your liquorice throat to unravel and explode in all sorts of manners
Been crying corrupt – tiny violin teardrops scatter-squashed and tattooed neatly to one side
Playing on wrongfully righteous rewind
And I steer clear of the civic duties made mild by these kaleidoscopic tendencies
Soon as pretty Penny drops scatter-splashed manic atop
My oh my miracle-design where ever have you been
You are the school for tee-totalling abuse – tell me, though, do you have to stand so close to him, a five at besta fat lady’s insipid three breathes desperate and easy!!?
Thumping warlord King Kong chest
Cheat… I never knew what I had til I lost it again, I hold my own against
I’ll be exclusively yours soon as I get to publish all of our off-the-record interviews
Now spill
Like you were left upon your very last breath
Tantalised til disguised by these prioritised white-lies of mine
Dizzy can’t see which way we need to climb next, our Eiffel Towers appear to be crumbling right by the metal-faced, caffeine-swilling breeze of gay Paris finally sees me
Down
Down
Down, drowning right by the volcanic divide
Quantifiably paralysed by the might of a transatlantic fight
Now do me a favour and take that fearless flight
Because, it appears to be, I’m still dripping by the crystal of creative crystalline
And answer me this, tease, why ever did your favourite flavour colour-code itself inescapably contagious?
