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I made a spike about nine o'clock on a Saturday. All eyes hit me as I walked into the door. Then stealin' (?) and then the guys were fooling in the demin dudes. A couple cards played rough stuff, New York, fire island. I cased the joint, straining at the scenes. I moseyed up to the counter and the tender came grinning. I snapped the smile off his face and scowled "Give me a bourbon!" The mirror on the wall was collecting and reflecting. All the heavy bodies ducking, stealing eager for some action. The scene screwed me up, I saw some contact. Then the big boys saw me and knew that. I'd had too much, floating around. Statues alive, seconds are hours. SOLO (Glenn) Sacks like a hurricane, wrapped in and shattered. I was barely holding on to this flying body symphony . I guess I dream in pictures, not colors. The true free expression I demand is human rights - right. I gave my life, I am immortal. I'm going, no loss I'm going, no loss I'm going, no loss I'm going, no loss Nightmare, just a bunch of goddamn, rotten, steaming... Raw Deal! Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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