here i go
i can't make out what
the rumour is that goes right
as leftwich steps on the gas
and we go up and the clouds
are wind in our ears whispering
nonsense and bits of satisfying
sing-alongs on bridges falling
and falling into a brooklyn
where tim leary is yet awaited
and everyone is an undercover
the kind who blows its cover
with a barrage of foul language
over some wise kid moving a street
barrier for no conceivable reason
you could know the truth just once
out of the hat or the chiaroscuro
hear here panthers lay on carpeting
plush plus we are getting shafted
they say _it's okey let's skedaddle
before it all comes crumbling down
we could break through once more
we got tickets for the warhol show
it's rock and roll and even the cat's
cool now and the breeze it's sudden
on our face and the ride and the view
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