Black Castles

In the street, they're digging holes and in the sinks

they're swilling coal-tar, baby. Feathers stuck on

poles. They're waiting for the gas man (Goo-goo-

ga-chew!) Tube train claims its fifteenth victim of an

average week. He tripped. A family man with no

ambition, meek as plastic tulips. He made it to page

53, they wrapped him round a fish and threw him

in the stew (Goo-goo-ga-chew.) Tuesday, it rained

glue balls; Wednesday morning was the smog.

They moved in on the West Side--rubber masks

on. They torched the whole damn lot. The people

died; they fenced it off. But still te peepos watch

from the top floor of the Euro Tower. Round and

round, 12 hours. Fountains. Fillet steak, a waiter with

a bow-tie. Press it, squeeze it, and it spits. Oh

Cologne! We smell OK, the O-Zone's safe, we

keep things underground. The sound we hear is

sweet soul music to the tannoy. Chew your gum and

close your eyes and nothing can annoy you.