Bodies dappled with rain bank
clashing in sunlight under the tin moon
mushroom ears and hair
stacked lenses of big screen eyes
and I'll be the janitor last to leave
when the lights and their voices go out
meanwhile the armchairs fight
in the streets where I used to chase females
drunk as paint, quite pleased
with the options available, and fuck
all you important people,
I'll stand over your graves while you jack off,
in a chorus of sickened flesh
pledging fruits to nowhere.