Off again to where cold beer and lack of cheer go. That place where the beaches are black and iâ€™m under attack by ghosts and unholy hosts who talk jabberwocky like me. HEY! Fuck that! Shout at the buildings. Shout at the street. Pull down the sun and blow up the moon. Hey God, get off that pedestal and stretch your mind. Itâ€™s party time and youâ€™ve got to move your feet (â€œto the rock steady beatâ€). Letâ€™s drink whiskey and vomit feelings. Bring some angels and letâ€™s get laid. Pay the devil. He needs the cash. Let him stand on the stage, a messiah of a rock band that will sing in throaty baritone about you and me and breasts â€¦ poetical lyrics. Letâ€™s become art.