The Precious Stoned
There are no bargains
living on life’s outer margins
Everything is priced to sell:
rings and skins and measured time
Everyone ready to sign
We’ll take over hell
and say it’s swell
when it’s sweltering
Shelter me
from the heat of the sun
and the cold shunning
stunning types
(you know the ones I mean)
We starve and binge
living on life’s tattered fringes
Everything must go:
honor, dignity, truth and soul
The precious stoned
point fingers well
but they can’t spell
to save their lives
Shield me
from the masses’ stampede
That shambling horde
buying what they can’t afford
(you know who you are)
Every star in the firmament
named and bought
Every thought had
like an escort
These sorts don’t come
to the stores anymore
Their seats are permanent
and their backs are perpetually sore
Insure me
but you can’t cure me
of a preexisting
condition
(I know what they really mean)