THEY ARE NOT BUDGIES


LIKE VULTURES THEY PERCH

AS I PRAY IN THE CHURCH

AS I LURCH OUT THE DOOR

LIKE SO MANY TIMES BEFORE

WHERE MY VEINS

LIKE A WHORE

BEGGED MY BRAIN

GO AND SCORE

SOME SWEET GOLDEN BROWN

BOY DID I GO TO TOWN

I GOT WASTED,DAMN BLASTED

BURNED AND RETURNED

I SHUFFLED AND SNUFFLED

GOT DOWN IN THE GUTTER

ANY WORDS I COULD STUTTER

GOT LOST IN THE SOUND

OF THE POUNDING,RESOUNDING

THE BEATING THE BLEATING

AND IN THE GRIME OF THAT TIME

LIKE VULTURES THEY PERCHED

AS I STUMBLED AND GRUMBLED

CREATED AND LURCHED

LOOKING FOR MY SECRET GOD

IN MY PRIVATE CHURCH.

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