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poem on dope... sung to a child's fairy tale tune.



A salesman, a fireman
A chicken pot-pieman
If you deep fry them they all taste the same
They're inside, they're outside
And finally upside-down
Always remember to forget their names.

Amnesia, insomnia
The football team's been on ya
I can smell locker-jock musk in your hair
He's coming, you're going
To find yourself blowing
The rest of your life on your knees with Pierre.

One pastor, one jester
And one child molester
A thinker, a drinker
An off-key lip syncher
A waiter, a skater
They all want to date her
And fuck her in her puckered starfish derriere.