O not as rare as the sound
of the steel wheels underground;
of the punk soft-*** cops made |       |
of soft see-saw wood:
sitting in a bucket of *** -
she sold my soul right outside;
I bought a mind from the tin-man -
the last time I saw her wet crotch
I was drunk then too,
**** it, I can see right through
her hairy smog;
I can't believe my throat
swallowed her whole
& I spit her right back up