Some people came to bust my head in

They split my head right open, that's all they wanted to do, 

I pleaded, "take my wallet, have my voice box too,

Anything but that, anything to subdue!"

They split my head right open; that's all they wanted to do. 

They took what they could carry, spilled some on the floor,

I saw a holiday memory, running for the door, 

There goes youthful exuberance, shaken to the core,

They took what they could carry, spilled some on the floor. 

My Right Hand is Wrong

What does one do with an inflated hand? A question I had never asked myself before and to be perfectly honest, a question I had never expected to have to ask myself. This morning though, the landmark moment arrived, I had to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror, face the truth and ask myself, 'what does one do with an inflated hand?' 

If you imagine a marigold multi-purpose rubber glove, in white man's flesh colour, slightly ruddy; then take the said glove and blow into the open end until it is full of breath, you are getting somewhere close to my reality, my mystery. 

Even now I sit at my computer screen frustrated by my zeppelin, annoyed and frustrated by the sluggish motions it makes. I spit on my right hand, extinguish cigarettes on it's hump to reassure myself that it does belong to me.    

Trout Mask Repeller

Dave says he loves the woman next door. I believe him too. 

I was just saying that I thought she seemed nice, and that I enjoyed hearing her sing to her baby, and he said it. "I love her." Clear as day, honest as a fisherman, he fucking loves 'er!

What's wrong with us? 

Today was a day

Today I fought the good fight,

I stood up and was counted. 

I landed a hammer blow for the undertow. 

I bellowed for the mellowed. 

Today was the day,

Tomorrow won't be.

Rejoice!

Sing out! 

Exclaim my name!

For today I fought the good fight.