Bikinigram From Satan

Not a time or a place. Not a name or a face in mind.

He wants to spread disgrace. Like a cardboard "help me"

sign.

He's a man with a mission. He's a man with a plan.

He's a man when he talks people listen and he's

shouting

Out your karma from a hot dog stand.

In a velvet cape, lighting up.

He rides an alligator on his way

To a junkie in a bathtub.

And in his big, black Cadillac

He's been known to do a doughnut in the parking lot

Of the Pearly Gates. And he laughs a lot.

He's on a Revelation Vacation. He got a bikinigram from

Satan.

Eating deviled eggs. Pulling up Puny Devil Kneesocks on

his skinny legs.

Half naked in the fireplace. Crashing stocks and bonds,

giving people ideas on how to build an A-bomb.

On his front lawn, there's a guy in a tie with a Bible

in a briefcase (and he's ding dong ditching).

He's on a Revelation Vacation. He got a bikinigram from

Satan.

Burning up for fun, he's a trillion years old with a

spear like a tail and a back bone throne. Never minds,

sips his wine. He's singing "Bub-Belzibub the world's

corrupt and it's mine!" Head guy on top of Mt. Sinai,

he's drawing upside down triple nines in the sky.

He's rolling snake eyes.

He's rolling snake eyes.

He's rubbing snake thighs.