Sitting in the wheelchair hugging the bong's sound
The bottles are all empty and I am spinning round
Wondering who I'll point to next knowing I'll point down
To the ghostly garden growing underground

Of smashed and trashed and burned out cashed
Hiding out inside their stash
Waiting to get the last lash
Moshing in a monstrous mash

My high dilated eyes filled with signs of the times
And I got wise to the rising divine tide
And the earth quaked and gave and waves made toward the land
Where my bland sand castle plans where wiped out by a grander hand

An angel at my writing table was just my inner lamp
A devil pulling at my leg was just my inner tramp
Begging for a scrap of crack and I just scratched his monkey's back
And melted to pieces and still am not intact

Writhing on the rack of guilt
Lugging sacks of drugging bills
Stuffed to the gills with pills
But still unfulfilled and broken willed

When she flew by all lucid dreams and lullabies
A flock of flapping novels flying close behind
Heading for the sun I was stunned following her blindly
Her white light took my black book and melted the binding

Float across the river Styx
Dodge the flicking of the bics
Turning to a world of tricks
Where burning pomegranate slits
Will hold me through the winter drifts
Till Hades' lady calls it quits
And brings the spring where hawk talk rings

Dose my tongue up for a shift
Gross my lungs out for a lift
My mouth is full of mothball spit
Slouching down in slothy pits

Persephone left me for Demeter's grief
She thought I was some bleak sneaky thief
But I loved her daughter she ate my three pomegranate seeds
And they'll grow inside her and when her world is dying she'll come back to me