The chase of the splendid
The mad hunt of twilight
Runs aground in fog
Very shaky timber not
My line of country

It was after our second waltz I did it
A fast shuffle with Miss Whitehead
The meat trade in all of its aspects
The best offering fortune has placed in my way
The apple of Sodom a glimpse of the cloven foot
That piece who prances around Lastingham
Getting in everywhere first the lily face
The pale corn hued hair and fragile frame
Firm as cockle shells half glittering half gritty
A wintry smile that lurid patch
That caps the biscuit
History will be made by her
A freak of an entirely genuine kind
Somehow I seem destined to show you
My most unpleasant side
Flapping her background in my face
Discourses constructing representation
Argument with an object
She chooses to disregard my irony
I can’t believe I’m in your van again
But since you asked me today
You’re making a game of me hold me like that
Do something nice to me son of Saint Louis
Ascend me to heaven
The buttons are really unbuttoned
But clothes like that aren’t meant
To be taken off still we manage
Some form of copulative engagement
Contamination and penetration something
In the nature of an unparalleled experience