Let us go then, you and I
When the Beijing smog fills up the sky
Like a hasher inebriated beneath a table
Let us run through certain ass-polluted lanes, the slurring refrains
Of Sundays chasing drunken halfmind hares
Of shitty beer and Chinese stares.
The hares that run like a tiresome hangover
That leads you to an impotent suggestion
Oh, do not ask “where is it?”
You know we’re at an “Oh shit.”
Down the trail the walkers walk
Talking about my flaccid cock
And indeed there will be time
To await the hares at a beerless stop
And watch Muschi Riot take off her top
There will be time, there will be time
To jump into a gooey sea
Of cigarette butts and old man pee
There will be time to swim and drink
And ignore the smell of Hashers’ stink
Time for pedal file to meet your kids
While hashers struggle with beer-can lids
Time for drinking and Just Flora
To get a name for her Algae’d bra
Down the trail the walkers walk
Talking about my flaccid cock
I have felt the size of my shaft get bigger
While harriettes watched my cock get thicker
And, in length, I was enlarged
WRW
On on.
