Early Coffee, Late Coffee
There was a murder at the coffee house,
So they buried him in brown beans,
And everyone was screaming for a mouse,
To come around passing out caffeine,
With all the victims guilty and all the guilty victims,
And the poet in the corner selling material convictions,
And the Jamaicans just kept dancing,
To the beat of my drum,
Made from skin from a pansy’s ass,
And I beat it with his two thumbs.
Drinking blood, celebrating death-
Before I drown in eyeliner won’t you-
Let me catch your breath; caffeine this and caffiene that.
Caffeine that and caffeine this; I piss.
There was murder at the coffee house,
While I emptied out my bowels,
He was lying under chessboards,
All knights raising their swords…
Stabbed with kings one in each eye,
Bath baby, terrible sight,
The police question every little weasel,
Where artist is made from property easel,
So officer I know which was which,
It was Jack Off in the sitting room, he done it with his wrist.
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