And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's shit tips green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
In England's carbon monoxide seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our genetically modified hills?
And was Jerusalem cloned here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Dig of burning gold:
Bring me my Viagra of desire:
Bring me my Foil: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Milligrams of fire.
I shall not cease from Mental Flight,
Nor shall my Pork Sword sleep in my hand
Till we have trashed Jerusalem
In England's green and fucked-up Land
(Based on a poem by someone else because I'm thick)
Skeeter
Have you ever seen things that aren't really there?
Like giraffes with green and purple hair,
Or live mannequins, or cardboard streets,
Or little people with massive feet?
I've seen things you'd never believe,
Butane gas made my eyes deceive,
It took me to a different place
Where things were pretty, all dressed in lace.
I've seen statues move and come to life,
I've been chased through a maze by a carving knife,
I've fallen from trees, floated through time,
I've watched my oen hands shimmer and shine.
I've travelled right through to Heaven's station
On my holiday of hallucination.
Quite fantastic, but to my shame,
It made a good job of destroying my brain.
Kara MacNamara
Prison boy wrote home one day,
Found his true love gone away,
When he asked the reason why,
She answered him with this reply:
If you choose the honest life,
Surely I will be your wife,
If you choose the life of crime,
Prison boy do your time.
Late that night in his cell,
Prison boy rang the bell.
Screw came running to the door,
Prison boy was on the floor.
In his hand a note all red,
In his hand a note that said:
Dig it wide and dig it deep,
Plant red roses at my feet.
On my chest a turtle dove,
Tell the world I died for love.
Thieving Little Simpkins
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