Rock and roll! Korps! Bugle!
Booty-brained women and men.
Jazz jumble-rumble, nobody left but us chickens!
Boil down pure consciousness,
spike it as a mainline, down
with all these pretty city birds
with their glittered city brains,
Mean Man Wheelturner,
Even poachers are starving, no use
tryna start a fight, Mr., Too Many
hard feelings for a clean contest,
just swing her hips
real juke joint like,
quit gazing into eternity like,
kiss kiss like, no mercy,
only blindness,
no more rockist factions
with their rickety fictions
and raucus functions, only those
Shut Up AND Kiss Me type moonlit nights...
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