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Didn't I see you down in San Antone on a hot and dusty night |
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We were eating eggs in Sammy's when the black man drew his knife |
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Then you drowned that Jew in Rampton as he washed his sleeveless shirt |
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You know that Spanish-speaking gentlemen, the one we all call Kurt |
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I remember you in Hemlock Road in 1956 |
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You were a faggy little leather boy with a smaller piece of stick |
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You were a lashing, smashing hunk of man, your sweat shines sweet and strong |
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Your organ's working perfectly but there's a part that's not screwed on |
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Were you at the coke convention back in 1965 |
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You're the misbred grey executive I've seen heavily advertised |
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You're the great gray man whose daughter licks policemen's buttons clean |
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You're the man who squats behind the man who works the soft machine |
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Come now, gentleman, there must be some mistake |
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How forgetful I'm becoming now you fixed your buisness straight |
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When the old men do the fighting and the young men all look on |
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And the young girls eat their mothers meat from tubes of plasticon |
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Be wary of these, my gentle friends, of all the skin you breed |
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They have that tasty habit, they eat the hands that bleed |
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So remember who you say you are but keep your noses clean |
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Boys will be boys who play with toys so be strong with your beast |
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Oh, Rosie dear, don't you think it's queer so stop me if you please |
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The baby is dead, my lady said, you gentlemen, why, you all work for me |
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Come now, gentleman, your love is all I crave |
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You'll still be in the circus when I'm laughing in my grave |
