I’ve tripped the dot down the Inglestone plot
While entertaining ice cold turkey
And I’ve tripped the shroom in the Plymouth gloom
When the future was looking murky
I’ve kicked a million times you know
I think I’ll kick again today
Until I get another crisis loan
I guess I’ll kick another day
I’ve seen the creamy white bites of Dover
Recede into the blue
And I’ve flown eight thousand miles
Just to smoke skunkweed with you
I can’t convince my mind of the awesome size
Of this planet that I roam
From the blazing light of the Tucson twilight
To the Amsterdamaged window clones
I’ve kicked ass with the riot squad
Down in Trafalgar Square
And I’ve waded through the bloodied beanfield
With white lime in my hair
I’ve been right down to Hades
Hell, I singed the eyebrows off my face
So I delved into the Devil’s bowels
And he puked me into place
I’ve surfed the all time highs and lows
Which punctuate my span
And I’ll rise up from the ashes
And I’ll sprout wings if I can
I’ve seen my grave in the cemetery
And the unicorn was smashed
So will you tie me to an olde oak tree
And float it like a raft
© Chris Bond — 1991