The mobile gas chamber turned up
late last night Dressed
to be Converted to catalytic green.
Go to sleep said the man dress in Paisley
The lion can’t hurt you it’s limbo bar
Short on chocolate.
as I tumbled through The Virginia creeper
glass inspection eyes And the arms of a psychologist
Where guess the safe words mean nothing.
At thirteen as we crossed lines into hells
Having seen the dirty version of Belles
And what happens when you drink the Memphis.
cement and ray hypothesis me whilst playing
Sleeping policeman on a sponsor channel in decline
Sleep tight and kiss the devil by your bedside.
Goodnight sweet meats murmurs.