There's a crooked back alley where the sun can't reach and your head don't look past the rotten Georgia peach when you take yourself to Vegas just to put up a hand and you drive out to Seattle in a U-Haul van I wish you the best and may God Rest the Soul of that god-damned dog and the Pope and his clothes

String-faced nobody with a bottle of rum talking out his earlobes just to see who will come takes a hand of black glitter to sprinkle on his grave letting everyone see that he's just another slave can't see for the wishes of the surrogate mass and can't wish for the sea of the arrogant ass look down to London and you'll get a feel for another old mother on a carbon reel

The soldiers cast lots for a pile of clothes as the sun goes down over the bars of death row say could you spare me a mention of time as the Roosevelt family takes the last of my dimes the shields are being lowered for the misses and sirs but everything about this is growing absurd please take the book and just bury it away because there's no more room and nothing left to say