Then I went down into the basement
Where my friend the maniac busy's himself
With his electronic grafiti
Finally his language touches me
Because he talks to the part of us
Which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls
In that moment poetry will be made by everyone
And there will be emu's in the zone...
Mist covers the ground in the city
Engine rumbles quiet as we drift by
I wish you could see it through my crooked eye
Oh your beauty plays me just like a guitar string (it's so true)
I want your touch, oh how I want you far too much
She my baby, he's my baby
Days drift into one, it's so pretty
Travelling Wilbury's, Polly's photofits
And this stolen car is loaded with junk, it's so dirty
He'll be the d**h of me, but that's ok
I want your touch, oh how I want you far too much
She my baby, he's my baby