I, as an actor In this giving action Feel a combustion of guilt Which tilts me towards Another disgusting depression Anointed by the gung ho gravity Of the great western rip off Gluing me super to its western ‘Box’ of tricks


Whenever the biblical ‘Beeb’ And my echo member sees fit I’m warmed me to reason About another giving season Under the still drenched cliché of sacrifice Type casting no doubt About a post Christian way out


So I’ll just run home Through my well rounded Window of pain Minding the Art of entertainment Embodying the homage to waist Clasping the precious dirt cheap Through the gauntlet of customs And exercise my programmed given right To forgive myself For sensing too much From a safe distance


15


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