February 25th, 2018

Eastside of Swing City
 
Hey cool cat, cream canned
lined corduroy carnivore
kicking crumpled cans
down dirty corridors
 
My duds be dandy, daddy o
 
Hey man, my dude with pounds
of dank, dug out cramped digs
filled with hippie kids,
scratched heads bids
hazy crust covered lids
 
My duds be dandy, daddy o
 
Picked up Pixie, pawn shop princess
fishnet hair lip and hair pin up,
gown lighter blaze through cigarette burns
get up smelled like scorched plastic urns
 
My duds be dandy, daddy o
 
Here’s a groovy pad, a far out crib
and she’s hip to slit, a slip of the hip, or a sip
of pristine means to a different scene
as she steps between, my hall full of beads
 
My duds be dandy, daddy o
My duds be dandy daddy o