I was alone to the bone

On an afternoon in Rome

The ballistic tests all positive

Spears sharpened to a bird-beak point

The traffic keeps rolling in honking circles

‘Round a statue of some Italian holy hobo

There are flaming balls on catapults

And smoky talk in the underground lounge

The voices rise into the street like sewer gas

Their words all full of shit

I just boarded a diesel-belching bus one day

And here I came to be

One head, one bag, one heart in a can

It’s all it’s ever been

It’s all it will ever be

Trippin’ out on mad Earth

Where is that high hip god to intervene?