Forget The Dead You've Left, They Will

Clowns To The Left Of Me, Jokers To The Right, Here I Am.

Every Step Of The Way We Walk The Line Your Days Are Numbered, So Are Mine Time Is Pilin' Up, We Struggle And We Scrape We're All Boxed In, Nowhere To Escape

God Bless Them Pretty Women, I Wish They Was Mine, Their Breath Is As Sweet, The Dew On The Vine.

Then Take Me Disappearin' Through The Smoke Rings Of My Mind, Down The Foggy Ruins Of Time, Far Past The Frozen Leaves, The Haunted, Frightened Trees, Out To The Windy Beach, Far From The Twisted Reach Of Crazy Sorrow. Yes, To Dance Beneath The Diamond Sky With One Hand Waving Free, Silhouetted By The Sea, Circled By The Circus Sands, With All Memory And Fate Driven Deep Beneath The Waves, Let Me Forget About Today Until Tomorrow.

"subterranean Homesick Blues" [of Bob Dylan] Captures, In Word-salad Format, Life In An Encroaching Police State.