Disco dancing in the heat wave,
I’m a sombre hermit who rents a cave.
Carlisle slopes on a backwards path,
it’s hard to connect in a cenotaph.
Friends and enemies can only meet me
while degrading each other’s vanity.
Those dirty dishes grow my stubble,
so I’ll put on make up then look for trouble.
Fighting violence by flirting crosses their line
as you grin them a smile made of red wine.
White knuckle shining will do you no harm,
seeing a tiger is part of its charm.
I shudder upon the stage fashion is at,
tying fireworks to a howling cat.
Man makes concrete, spiders make silk,
so I take an overdose then buy some milk.
Morning rain clouds starved of glory,
please read me a bedtime story.
The obedient die weak and wrong
I want to sing a different song.
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