Haste your every day
Talk with hands and feet
punks asked me the way
and pierced my shuffled offbeat
I surmount the distant hill
with my trophies in self-defence
watch your step, dressed to kill
chase your tail and then transcend!
So I beseech ancient inscriptions
fragmentary tongue-in-cheek
I speak in tongues, this is science– fiction!
a lucky beggar by the week
Apophony is my leitmotif
Then umlaut the Volta and I will live