Yes. Music to eat by
flavours of sweetness 
spices of yet another life, 
another place, another time
the innocent taste of rhyme
tangles me on the palette, 
mingles me in the air, 
no longer abiding in the cynic’s lair, 
for she’s not there.

Crossses, forks, knives, staying alive, 
we thrive with three eyes, 
a pasty present for the future 
we done us best when we wus let, 
thinking sent me all to pot, 
man the mental elf, 
shrooms taste leafy, 
best of the rest is my zest 
when I were let t’listen. 

Thinking always, as I goes along, 
night and day and all me feckin life 
I have been lived among these tasteless sods,
the rich who have no tunes n’er songs
the poor with whom I git along:
pomes and stories is all we got 
but now even theys 
be loathed to me.

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