[Then I went down into the basement, where my friend the maniac busies himself with his electronic graffiti. Finally his language touches me, because he talks to the part of us which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls. In that moment, poetry will be made by everyone and there will be emus in the zone.]

Mist covers the ground in the city
Engine rumbles quiet as we drift by
I wish you could see
(Sweetheart)
Through my crooked eye
(Silence let me whisper)
Oh your beauty
Plays me just like a guitar string
(Plays right just like guitar whisper true)

I want your touch
Oh how I want you
Far too much
She my baby
(He’s my baby)

Days drift into one, it’s so pretty
Traveling Wilburys, police photofits
And this stolen car
(Cool hand)
Is loaded with junk
(Silence let me whisper)
It’s so dirty
(We are the dark silver bullets)
You’ll be the death of me
(Flying through)
But that’s okay

I want your touch
Oh how I want you
Far too much
She my baby
(He’s my baby)