They Dream Only of America

The murderer’s ashtray
Burns most easily
At the s. point
Of the turning world

Blessings for the world?
The skeleton of Krishna
Holds the key in one
Of his many hands

But Lucifer’s grown tired
Of being fucked by each
And every side and already
Has broken down the door.

By Tornado’s roundhouse–
Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-YAaaaaagh!
Whoops, I did it again.

Pissed in the theatre.
Shit on your seat
Right out of Holly-
Wood’s hidden magic

screen.

I can hear their screams
That’s what you get
For scalping
Front row seats.