Third Eye Tramp

This isn't a show aside a distraction,

I transcended good taste many gutters ago.

Here every noun is a stab and every verb is a punch;

A frame, a tale, a naked lunch.

Clench the fist,

Hold tight to the blade,

Or you will be stabbed

Let alone punched.

In calm assurance

Adorn a mask of authority

And in cracking temerity,

Drool sincerity all over

The place-mat of conformity.

Pass on by but be sure

To tune into the third-eye tramp:

He carries the apocalypse in a plastic bag.