Though it's me that's on fire not this cigarette. I was stabbed in the back by that young suffragette. And what do I care if she leaves me alone. If I need somebody I'll pick up the phone.
The night came down, jungle sounds were in my ears. City screams are all I've heard in twenty years. The razor's edge of night it cuts into my sleep. I sit upon the edge now shall I make that leap?.
Well, the telephone is ringing. Is that my mother on the phone?. The telephone is ringing. Is that my mother on the phone?. The telephone is screaming.
I likes to eat my friends and make no bones about it. I likes to eat my friends, I couldn't do without it. Ain't a man or poet, friend, I know just how you'll taste.