A Share of the Profits

Holidays in Japan and a funeral by a sty
ashy throats and a Buddhist phone were married by the judge
Who wore no robe in his court he was a chubby healthy loan
from the state to the press to ignore the cabaret
Where wallets lost some fat in an orgy camouflaged
in cultured hives, cultured tax, the cult that grins when you spy
Moderate charlatans are the heroes with no ties
to the left nor the right just the navel in loose guns

Clandestine union cells kept the hemorrhage from growing frail
bleed to feed the treaty's whip will collect via mail
endorsed breaths do not protect the wasting of your head
The side effects don't relate to apathy in regret
Atoms were born to lease whatever matter drips
Into books that fool the loons with symptoms of solitude
A quarantine up the sleeve saved for the first hint
Of you and me running free like hypochondriacs that have deceased


But is you who calls for me always you who calls for me
Transcendental human piss, you call for me