45*21

god has a parrot named Jerkoff
and the effeminate private eye sees all
the all knowing and the reverse at a bar are telling
the bartender knows the joke but listens on
it turns out it's his wife, ancient Rome
some piazza, they grab a drink
god eats a raw fish and slurps some water
tonight the moon is velvet
her hair is white like elephant's tusk
they run the chance of getting some dirt on me
so put me through some baggage check
I've seen the ravages of war and read a couple novels
they pulled the plug on his disease
so now we are sucking salt from the wound
moonshine, foundry of light, shimmering pottery
cast that shit on the still water
I hear the bass coming out of the left speaker
sounds like some poor slob gets murdered
hand me my robe kind gent
I must switch the moon off wit my tears
and slowly don some slacks