One hand on the wheel…and yours on the gas – 9/6/00

Hello, what is your name,
Mr. Spooky Man clinging to your chair?
Soon I will be in the air
and if you care to stare,
then the air up there is very rare
Adorned with flowers and beads of wood
a pair of pants with a missing hood
and you understood that it’s good
if under the hood you find what you could,
. . .then it should
The soul of one does not always return
to another host, it clears thy post
and most of all, the boast was over a ghost!
But who could stand the post after he ran
the can thirteen miles to San Fernando
and got into a tan van driven by men with mustaches
We’re going to a place called Nespota
but we can’t get there without a mota
Call in the traviketz and flee
into a ravine filled with morphine
I fell away from Dean only to sever my spleen
on a routine clean of the Physeudorectamine plants
while as though it appeared that I danced,
I died.

9/6/00

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