Winston Churchhill in drag
Looking for a new maternal embrace
Another tired old gag
Am i just a walking bag of chewed up dust and bones
You may or may not have noticed that these little finds were used as place holders on thecornerstory.blogspot.com, but they're here now, just for the pure entertainment value. They make no sense really, but neither did the magazine they came out of, so I guess there was never much to be expected.
Car-driven sunspots hard rocking the ecstasy
Shiv-ing some carbide saw blades into sand
With these fuming dunes just clapping for thunder
We roll
Over these fertile footprints landed in gray third gravity
Cos it’s just an orbiting notion of tambourine clang
Swinging these planets on low-impact runners from a cancer
Well we’ve eaten our carotenoids lycopenes or even MAOI's
Yet somewhere in the fuzzy tempest tantrum we sucked down
Every last gel tab acronym
Yeah but it still tastes like life
Courted by the physics of a sunstroke slathered in SPF one million
I am safe in batting and lilac artificiality
Cos everyone knows sterility is the smell of everyday adventure
Can’t help but wonder what cosmic colon might shite
This next out moment sideways through pornographic piles
Jogging next year for a six day savior clinical in Adventism
For a nineteen thirty-something corvette steaming country roads
To emulsification
Something’s a bit off but it’s too long to state Frank-like
Just keep your minds numbed for the Susanine stutter
Of an abbreviated indecision
Cairo was a city just like Jersey in some time
When swaggering stars would kick off a volleyball in tap shoes
A lil' rin tin tin tippy tap salute to Ra
And comets would fall across a mis-measured rotunda
Maybe they thought that Alexandria was a fortune 500
But Bill Gates of course would’ve been forced to resign as head smartass
They did their labor like all good little nomadic undulations
Everyone’s seen their brick by brick play of masonry dust
Those vast temples we call asymmetrical abstraction
Kandinsky should have at least done some lifting despite the union
But I was lazy then too
Cos Cairo was just a city once
A small crazy town of two or three horses and a spittoon
Where we would waltz our women and whiskey dance our way
Cracking hissing rattlers in the jaw with particle beams
Another sarsaparilla don’t mind if I do
But make it Evian brand sans fluoride, microbes, and those flavin thingies
To my left I'd see Gene Autry gumming on to Pecos Bill
While Paul would set his hand on the butt end and sweet talk some babe
Of course John Wayne would want in to see
This lovely little mad house we'd made of ourselves
But we have standards to keep
No wannabes allowed in our egocentric buffalo hunts
Only cos this was Cairo you know in the days of the city
Brick streets and carriages all clacking with hoof beat beatniks
The French firing their muskets at guerilla Indians tongue-in-cheek intact
And the kindly queen taking her head from the block whistling Dixie
What pharaohs these mortals be
Sipping Tangueray on their front porches in the summer ghetto rambles
Cos Cairo was a tiny little town before it was this
Before the presidents wanted the sex and cigar fights were abundant
Should we duel anon noon you say
We'll just have to see
Cos I hear the Beatles are playing by Golden Gate tomorrow
They are more than the funky grunge answer to U2
Yeah Cairo was a city once just like Jersey shore ways
Where tipsy toddlers scuff there knees giving head to the confusion
Of this simple prayer
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