Harness your hopes. On just one person. Because you know a harness. Was only made for one. Don't telegraph your passes. You'll end up with molasses. Cauterized with syrup. And syrup and molasses. And I'm checking out the asses. The assets that attract us. To anything that moves. We're deep inside the grooves. And it's time to shake the rations. 'Cause someone's gonna cash in. The plot it turns again. The reference starts at ten. Show me. A word that rhymes with pavement. And I won't kill your parents. And roast them on a spit. And a - don't you try to etch it. Or permanently sketch it. Or you're gonna catch a bad bad cold. And the freaks have stormed the white house. I moved into a lighthouse. It's on a scenic quay. Its oh so far away. Far away from the begining. The shroud is made of lenin. The yearling took the purse. The goth kid has a hearse. Heart breaking. Earth quaking. Kiwis they are home baking. Minds wide open truely. Leisure. A leisure suit is nothing. It's nothing to be proud of. In this late century. And I'm asking you to hold me. Just like the morning paper. Pinched between your pointer. Your index and your thumb. It's a semi automatic. Believers are ecstatic. You see the way they cling. The cold metallic sting. And I'm living in a coma. For Donna DeVorona. The harness made of hopes. The lovers on the ropes. Nun is to church. As the parrot is to perch. And my heart's wide open truely