It’s the Drugs that Get in the Way, Actually

Far out man in the space of punch-drunk nouns.
You’ve got to give it him: he’s on something;
And he knows the drugs are for the weak.

Strive after everything that annoys you:
That’s how you find your tormentors;
And he licks his boons only after his Bada Bings.

They’re all just learning
To be very very serious;
And they’re all just yearning
To be very very mysterious—
Bulky and pike:
onetwo        three        four.

He rejects labels for measured distance,
For sudden departures:
They’ll rip back in in no time, those streets.

Come on: it’s glitter:
You won’t get it out with the opposite wine:
Keep on chugging, cats!

What a performance—
What a performance!
If only it was all like this: magic and dust.
I would well come again though, babe!
O I most certainly would not:
        Did you not taste the sweetness?