The old dog took a terror walk
lower than the sweaty Point,
lower than the rocks and whores;
all in all, to an awkward joint
â€œâ€˜Til death do us partâ€ met its match
when he smiled and lost his heart
to a wettened devil
in an unwagered game of catch
â€œNever mindâ€ he said â€œfor it was old
(and itâ€™s high time I lost some weight)
My blood may run slower
but slugs donâ€™t mind the cold
All I need is a tree to piss on
(to mark my grave),
a map and a flapping soul
towards rock â€˜n roll and hedonismâ€
Do you know who the prisoner is?
(Judas views and weathered testament)
Do you read reflections well?
(Petrol slickened for eager flint).