The Junk of Love

Sick buzzard stumblin down the street as if his heart was cut out,
Searchin the cracks for carrion an’ other marks of rout,
See the cracked man laugh on the subway train
Pupils suspended between his shouts,
Ya ever wonder how they wound up that way,
How far they fell between the planks?
How the shinin prince who used to woo traded his armor in for rags?

Well, let me tell ya lil’ boy of a potion I know that’s been smuggled amongst the ages,
The lil’ thing the poets try to describe but end up wastin countless pages,
It’s a tiny tincture lodged in yer heart which if you aint careful will grow,
So prick up your ears lest yer taste arise to an addictive horrorshow…

Now, Nancy was a rancher’s wife with half her life behind her,
An’ she fell for a man in a three piece suit when he offered her his lighter,
An’ when they left that bar an’ left that town she felt her grace had finally come-

But she wound up like a mule in a motel room,
Kickin an’ a buckin in a bucket of her drool,
Clawin off the tiles in the filthy bathroom
She was strung
out
on
the junk of love.

Billy Boy was an alleycat with an ace of spades inked in his forearm,
The ace of clubs adorned his right fist an’ his shaft adorned the diamond mark,
An’ he poled the strippers an’ hustled the cards, rakin in the chips and palmin the hearts,
But he wound up a wino dealin stud on the outskirts of Reno with a trucker gut,
With a wrinkle dead dick an’ a fresh scrubbed gun,
Both of them choked within his clutch,
Wonderin if he shouldda jus’ held onto one,
His arteries cravin the junk of love.

Ya best take it easy on that plunger son…
Ya best take it easy on that plunger son…

Ya best take it easy on that plunger son,
How much of her juice ya shove in yer blood,
How deep ya delve into those pinhole eyes,
What dreams you awake between those thighs-
For Venus has slain all the alibi’s
an’ built a pyre out of their tongues!
With each lash they lick the fire up!
Fannin the furnace of the hi-noon Sun
where yer lover’s left you with the dust of lust,
Seekin out the dealers who don’t push yer stuff,
Scrapin back to what you once thought was
through a rust buffed portrait best kept untouched
You’ll be the wide eyed buzzard caked with mud
carrion crazy
for the junk of love.

Ya start out wise but end up dumb, sucker…
You’ll start out wise but end up dumb, sucker…

You’ll start out wise but end up dumb
Thirst cracked crazy for a drop of the stuff,
Obscene squealins, tangle blood tufts,
Deranged an’ prayin for a prick of the junk-
Pick up the blade boy palm the gun!
Pick up that blade boy palm that gun!
Yer slumped hump proves you’ve had enough
Take a long draw of the Devil an’ get the job done
‘cause there aint no rehab an’ there aint no club,
once yer strung out on the junk of love-
once yer strung out on the junk of love-
once yer strung out on the junk of love-

Plunge it in baby I aint had enough…
Shove right ‘mongst all the other stuff,
There was room for two ‘til you came along,
with yer battle wrought claws and pushup bra,
With yer stilettos tappin’ out Murphy’s law,
Ya got me humpin’ a pillow ‘til the cockcrow calls,
Shakin at the gates of a slaughterhouse dawn
Ya got me strung out baby
Ya got me strung out hazy
Ya got me strung out on the couch coughin out a song
Dope sick strung out on
the junk of love.