You never saw
the greatest high
that exploded like a B-Bomb
right before your eyes.
You climbed into a dumpster
to take shelter
out back of the super-store -
a 'K' and an 'M'.
A slightly bruised apple
is perfectly fine.
A bag of soft carrots.
Some old cooking wine.
Triple X sherry.
The double X eyes.
Anything more fancy
just ain't necessary!
X-drinkers
X-smoke-bomb,
and dealers take heel.
For all the X-traneous
X-foliating mothers
who bored all their children
with X-perienced lies.
Like:
Living is this
and life is that;
you've got X amount of time
to X-hibit that;
you were making the best use
of something they say
is so precious.
So precious.
So precious.
Proclaim all the X-junkies
and all your X-lovers
and those genetic strangelings
we call sisters and brothers.
Lifting them up from the
swamp to soft sholder.
That was all you could do.
That was all you could do.
Lifting them up
from the swamp to a ditch.
That was all you could do.
That was all you could do.
That was all you could do.