Last night I think I spent the pin
It stranded at my finger
I think I even split the skin
Then bled like blood’s a singer
So wrapping up in science fiction
Like to flopping at a rope
I clicked the sun she flicked her pictures
We rubbed against each other’s soap
Bach called fowl swan wands
I wish he had a waltz
An ark is just an added cunt
It’s wanda writhing on her ponce
El Wick caught fire his flame found fission
You froze up at the landing
Smell of gongs’ colliding mission
Wicked acts were underhanding
What wonders can we grab at?
What is it that flaps and crawls?
My pin washed up in Ballarat
Yes that’s right you, yes you, you fucking troll!
Matthew the Oxx 